The Game is Afoot
by icebluehost
Summary: While on a mission in London to stop one of the 66 seals from breaking, Dean and Sam Winchester enlist the help of a legendary crime-fighting duo in order to track down the most elusive and most infamous serial killer of the 19th Century.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Bobby Singer glanced out of the scratched, dirt encrusted window, watching Dean perform routine maintenance on his beloved Impala. The older Winchester was standing under the sun covered with oil and dust, a wrench in one hand while chugging a can of beer with his other. The younger, taller Winchester was in the house sitting by the dining table, poring over his laptop in search of demons or other creepy-crawlies to hunt down. The two brothers had been driving near his home and decided to stop by his place for a quick R&R. Bobby was more than happy to let them take a break in his house.

As he turned his gaze away from the window he saw Sam close the top of his laptop and give a heavy sigh, stretching out his long limbs from where he sat.

"No news?" Bobby asked.

"No news." Sam answered. "No flickering lights, no sudden famine or devastating catastrophe. There's hardly a mention of demonic signs in any city."

"Strange that you'd hear nothing despite the fact that these seals are being broken even as we speak." Bobby commented. "They must be out there somewhere."

"I know." Sam muttered with another sigh. "I wish there was a way for us to know what the seals are so we could prevent them from being broken." But both men were aware that even if they knew, they wouldn't be able to stop them all. There were just too many seals and too few of them to stop it. Sam stared at his laptop for a few seconds as if waiting for it to reveal to him their next step then opened the top again.

"I'll just make another quick search in case I missed something earlier." Bobby just nodded and left him to it. A few minutes later he came back into the room where Sam was, nursing a bottle of beer he took from his kitchen.

It was at this moment that Dean chose to make his entrance. His face was grim and pissed as he stomped into the house and ungracefully sat down on a chair beside Sam with his arms crossed over his chest. He said nothing to them but anyone with eyes could tell that Dean was angry about something. The other two looked at each other in silence before turning their gazes back to Dean. It was the younger man who decided to voice his concern.

"Dean, what's wrong?" The older Winchester didn't reply immediately. He looked first at Bobby, then at Sam, before looking to the other again. Without warning he grabbed the beer from the older man's hand and chugged it all down before finally slamming the empty bottle on the table.

"The fucking angels want me to go to freakin' London!"


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N**: I forgot to mention this in the previous chapter. I do not own anything here except for the plot and a couple of characters who are neither from Supernatural or Sherlock Holmes. Plus a big shout-out to Medusa Sparrow-Winchester and KiriNoMiko for beta-ing my story. That's all. Enjoy!

**Chapter 1**

A man wearing a dark, short sleeved red jacket over a long sleeved shirt and navy blue jeans made his way through Camden Market, with only the moon and the lights from other buildings and houses guiding his way. They cast a dim glow through the fog that curled up from the ground, giving off the image of thin, withering hands that seemed to grab and claw at innocent victims. A scream erupted from a window in a building. In another window, a low and deep groan of pain reached the man's ears. His eyes caught shadows lurking behind walls and alleyways but none of them came out of their hiding places. Still he advanced deeper into the heart of the area with purpose in his steps.

He made his way towards a dark and polished door with light splashing out from the frosted glass window. There was a sign that hung above the door but even if he couldn't see it, the man knew by heart the image of the wine glass tilted to the side, its contents spilling onto the bottom half of the sign, as well as the name of an establishment engraved in a neat font.

As he stepped into the room, he was greeted by the smell of smoke and alcohol. At his right he could hear the sound of the television set to a rerun of a football game. He also noted that the jukebox was silent tonight with a small, growing smirk on his face. He nodded his head to a man sitting close to the entrance before strolling further into the room towards the bar where a plump woman was busy wiping a glass with a clean towel.

"So what's it going to be for tonight?" The woman asked. The man sat on a stool and rested his arms on the table as he looked apologetically at the brunette.

"Sorry, Marge. I won't be drinking tonight." A ringing sound interrupted their brief conversation. The man held up a finger at the woman as he fished out his cell phone from his pockets and flipped it open. He looked at the screen and raised his eyebrows in surprise before answering the call. As he did so the female bartender moved away from him to another customer who was calling for her attention.

"Bobby? This is a pleasant surprise. I'm the one who normally rings you for help." He said.

"And what makes you think I'm calling for help?" The indignant voice replied.

"Name one time, apart from the holidays and my birthday, when you rung just to say 'hi' and 'how are you' and I promise to take it all back." When he got no answer from the other man he grinned. "I thought so."

"Will you let me talk or are you going to waste the minutes I'm spending for calling long-distance?" The man seemed to consider it for a minute before he smiled and relaxed in his stool.

"I'll listen. It must be something real serious for you to waste your precious minutes on me. This isn't about the Apocalypse is it?" The silence on the other end was all the answer he needed. Before Bobby could ask the question the man knew was on the other's mind, he spoke. "America's causing so much trouble that your neighbors across the pond can't help but hear things about it. Things about Lilith and her army trying to bring about the end of the world right? Apparently even angels are involved now."

"Good. I don't need to elaborate. The angels are ordering friends of mine to head for London to stop one of the seals from breaking and I need you to show them around and help them out."

"These mates of yours wouldn't happen to be the Winchesters would they?" More silence. "I told you we hear things."

"That's some ears you've got." Bobby muttered.

"Well I have my ways." The man said in a mysterious tone. As he spoke with Bobby his eyes roamed towards the round, red framed clock that hung against the wall to his left. When he read the time, he frowned.

"Bobby I'll happily take the chaps in and help them out but I'll have to ring you again later for details. There are matters I need to attend to first." He said as he turned his gaze away from the wall.

"Are you out hunting?" There was a pause before the other man replied.

"Not exactly. Though depending on how this night ends, I might have to." A scream outside the bar cut off anything else that he had to say. He immediately got down from the stool and ran for the entrance, but not before turning his gaze to Marge who was staring at him with wide, curious eyes.

"Stay where you are. I'll see what's going on." Then into the phone he said, "Bobby, I have to go."

"Take care of yourself kid." The man grinned and he had no doubt that Bobby could see it from his end too.

"When have I not?" With that final statement he pocketed his phone and went out through the front door. He walked a few meters away from the entrance before taking out his gun from a pocket in his jacket, gripping it firmly in his hand then turning right in pursuit of his target.

The man ran through the foggy streets, his eyes straining to catch any sign of movement. A flutter of cloth at the edge of a wall led him around a corner of the street and past several dark houses until he stopped in front of an alleyway as black as a moonless night. As he surveyed his surroundings he saw a high-heeled shoe lying at the edge of the shadows. With a curse he fumbled for his penlight and flashed it at the darkness, giving him a small path of light to guide his way forward.

The sight of bloodless walls and ground gave him hope as he carefully moved deeper within the narrow path, but it was the silence that unnerved him. He gripped his raised gun even tighter with each step he took, half-expecting something to jump out and attack him. When nothing did and the silence lingered, he began to feel dread creep up the back of his spine.

Surprise took over as his light revealed a wall. He had arrived at the end of the alleyway. The man stopped walking and shone the light all over the area. There were several doors on either side of the alley but there was no sign of tampering or breaking in. His frown grew deeper as he showered the ground with his penlight and saw that it was clean. It was as if the person disappeared into thin air. As he realized this his arms fell to his sides and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Damn it!" He growled. With a grudging sigh he stuffed his gun and his penlight back in the pocket of his jacket and began removing it as he retraced his steps back. Halfway there a police car came rushing past him, turning around the corner to where the bar was located.

Before he stepped out from the same corner of the street to reveal himself, he stopped and, with his long fingers, brushed back the slightly long bangs of his blond hair. He made sure there was no blood on him or anything else that might incriminate him and rolled up his jacket into a bundle. When he was sure that everything was in order he took a deep breath and walked towards the two inspectors who were making their way to the front door. But before he reached them, he tossed his jacket in front of the car, pushing it further under the hood with his foot so that no one would see it or think of getting it.

* * *

From the moment they stepped into the terminal and made their way to their seats, both Dean and Sam said nothing to each other. The younger Winchester repeatedly glanced at his brother, who sat stiffly beside him, with slight concern on his face. Dean's whole body was rigid and his heated gaze might melt the chair in front of him if he stared longer. It had already been an hour since they had left the airport and Sam decided he had to distract Dean or they were never going to make it to London in one piece.

"Dean, relax. There aren't any demons or spirits that's going to make this plane crash. We're perfectly safe." Dean either ignored his brother or didn't hear him as he turned his head slowly and glared at Sam.

"Some college geek you are. Couldn't you have figured out a way to bring my baby along with us? She must be so scared and lonely now!" Sam bit back a sigh and rolled his eyes at Dean.

"And here I thought I was going to strap you to your seat during the whole flight. She has Bobby to keep her company while we're away. And think of it as letting her take a break from all your driving around."

"Like hell I'm listening to someone who hardly knows squat about my baby! She loves being taken out for a drive all day."

"Dean, we can't bring the Impala to London with us without having its registry checked by security. If they find out that the plates are fake and see the stock load of weapons we hide in the trunk –"

"Yeah, yeah whatever. But I swear if we come back and I find even the slightest scratch on her I'll –" He didn't get to finish his threat as a red haired stewardess came up to them with a bright smile on her face.

"Can I get you gentlemen anything?"

"I'll have a can of coke if there's any." Sam said.

"I'll have beer." Dean followed. He glanced at the nametag pinned to the woman's uniform and flashed her one of his charming smiles together with a wink. "And you can get anything you want too, Pamela. I'll cover for it."

"Thank you for the kind offer, but we get our own free drinks as well. Is there anything else I can get for the two of you?" The stewardess asked with a polite smile on her face.

"No, no, we're good. Thanks." Sam interjected before Dean could say anything else. As Pamela left them in their seats, Sam glanced at his older brother with a frown.

"Dean, focus. We're not here on vacation."

"Well we can work and play at the same time can't we? We deserve some slack for being forced to do angel-work and for making me leave my baby behind." The older Winchester said. He looked around his seat and caught sight of a controller at the small pocket of the chair in front of him. As he spoke further, he took it and turned it over in his hands.

"I still don't get why Cas wants us to go all the way to London just to check out a rumor he heard from demons about some seal. He could have just gone there and done it himself instead of twiddling his thumbs and waiting for us."

"There's no use complaining about it now. Especially since we know that there are angels who are trying to help break the seals. Castiel must be having just as hard a time as we are. The least we can do is to help him out." Sam said. Before answering his brother, Dean turned on the TV screen above the pocket and fiddled around with the system.

"So did you find anything for us? Any demonic signs, strange deaths, ghosts appearing out of nowhere; you know – our kind of thing?" He asked as he gestured to the laptop in front of Sam. The younger Winchester turned his attention back to the screen and frowned as he typed something on the keyboard.

"There's a couple of things I think we should check out, though I don't know if any of them would lead us to the seal Castiel heard about. But if they're anything in our domain, I think we might as well deal with them." He stopped typing and turned the laptop so that Dean could see it.

"There is one other interesting piece of information that I found. While checking out if there's anything on Bobby's friend, I saw this. It's an article dated 12 years ago about the murder of a family." Dean leaned closer to the screen as he read the headline at the top.

"Calwell heir mourns devastating loss. Wait a minute…is that _Bobby_? He looks…_young_." The image clip attached to the news article was that of two men who seemed to be standing before a small line of coffins. One of them was a young boy of 14 or 15 while the man who placed a hand on the boy's shoulder was a younger, fitter version of their friend in South Dakota. Sam nodded to his brother in reply.

"And no doubt this is Bobby's friend, Ethan Calwell. The article talks about how he had been studying in Oxford when his whole family was killed in cold blood. Police reports mentioned that the bodies were found in the home, covered in deep scratches that may have come from a very ferocious animal. They couldn't make certain what type of animal it was; just that it was large and had sharp claws." Dean's head snapped up to look at Sam with one eyebrow raised.

"A ferocious animal…huh?" A few seconds passed before Dean looked back at the screen. "What else have you found out about him?"

"Not much after that. Bobby was assigned as his guardian in the father's will so he stayed there to help him. Ethan continued his studies at Oxford and graduated four years later. The last article that mentioned him was on his 18th birthday about how the Calwell fortune officially became his. He sold all the family's properties and valuables and decided to live a mediocre life in a flat on a place called Hornsey. I guess the people lost interest in him when he refused to follow in his father's footsteps and become the president of the family company."

"How did Bobby come to know a couple of British folk from across the continent?"

" Ethan's father was an American who made it big in London when he did some service to the Queen and was knighted for it. There was an article about how he had saved the Royal Family from some dangerous men but the details are too sketchy on who these men are or what they wanted. There's no mention of his father's past but I could take guess that he was a hunter. Bobby must know him from those days and kept in touch with him even after he moved to London."

"So Bobby took care of the kid and trained him to become a hunter too?"

"Maybe. In fact, I guess it's obvious that he's one of us. Bobby _did_ call him for help."

"Man what I'd give to have all that fortune. Imagine the awesome arsenal you could get with that kind of money! Plus, all the chicks would come crawling at your doorstep."

"Even if getting a fortune means losing your whole family?" Sam asked. Dean said nothing as he settled back into his own chair, his eyes glued to the TV screen in front of him.

"All I know is, I ain't passing on a First Class flight to anywhere. Dude this is so awesome; it beats being zapped here by Cas. And they even have Grand Theft Auto!" Sam sighed as Dean grabbed the headphones in the same pocket where he got the controller and began playing videogames. At least Dean was too distracted to worry about the flight itself.


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Here's the next chapter. Disclaimers and acknowledgment can be found in the first chapter. XD Enjoy!

**Chapter 2**

"_Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please. The plane will be arriving in London shortly. We request that you turn off all electrical devices as well as the in-flight entertainment system, return yours chairs to the upright position and remain in your seats as the plane prepares for landing."_

The moment Sam heard the announcement he placed his laptop back in its bag and fixed the tray attached to the back of the seat in front of him. He turned his gaze to Dean and saw that he was still shooting people and blowing up cars, oblivious to everything past the headphones on his ear. He called out Dean's name several times without success then switched off the monitor with a roll of his eyes.

Dean blinked a few times; his eyes widening as he realized what had happened. To his dismay, recovery had been too late as he turned the monitor back on and saw his player getting shot at by policemen. He took off his headphones, ignoring the screen as it displayed a mission failed image, then glared at Sam accusingly.

" – the hell?! You killed Niko!"

"Weren't you paying attention? They said to turn everything off."

"What does turning this thing off got to do with landing planes? They can still do that even if I'm killing mobs and gangsters here." Dean complained. Sam sighed and merely shook his head.

"Just _please_ do as you're told and stay out of trouble. I don't want to get stuck in airport security because you're busy playing gangster." Dean threw his hands up in surrender before looking out of the window. He immediately turned his gaze to the blank monitor, his body turning stiff as he recalled where he was. His hands tightened their grip on the armrests on either side of him and he pressed himself back against the chair as much as he could.

"If this thing crashes, I will kill you." Dean muttered.

"It won't." The younger sibling reassured him. "You should be more worried about what happens after we get off the plane. Just…close your eyes and count to a hundred. It'll be all over by then."

The landing took several minutes but it felt like hours to Dean. The counting did help, though he refused to admit it to Sam. The older Winchester felt relief flood through his veins and his body turn to slush as the plane finally came to a stop. He was the first one to take off his seatbelt, which he had trouble unfastening, and half-pushed Sam out of the way so he could get to his bag and head for the exit as quickly as he could.

The two brothers didn't bring much, save for some clothes and other necessities. They couldn't bring their weapons into the airport or smuggle them to London. Both Dean and Sam could only hope that their London guide had everything they needed. Half an hour later the brothers were cleared and they followed a young woman towards a plain looking car parked outside the entrance hall. The young woman opened the door to the back seat and ushered them into the car but Dean didn't move.

"Well this is disappointing. I was expecting a limousine to come pick us up." He commented. Sam sighed and pushed his older brother into the car. Once he got in the car sped off and drove out of the airport.

They rode in silence; the only sound heard was the sound of the engine. Their driver was a silent man who wore a large cap and made sure that neither brother in the back could see his face. Sam wondered for a brief moment if it was a good idea to trust their lives to the driver. Then he remembered Bobby's reassurance that this Ethan was a man to be trusted and his worry alleviated a little. The two brothers looked out of the windows on either side of the car and gazed at the houses, buildings, and streets they drove through.

They stopped at an ordinary looking apartment and stepped out of the car to get a better look at it. The neighborhood seemed nice enough, though at this time of the night anything in the shadows seemed threatening. Sam noticed that the building the driver had stopped in front of was completely dark, with no lights coming from any of the windows.

"Um, excuse me, sir, but are you sure - " Sam was interrupted by the sound of the running engine and watched as the car drove off quickly, leaving them with no choice but to walk up the short steps to the door. Once they were standing right in front of it Dean looked at Sam and shrugged.

"Well, here goes nothing." His hand was halfway towards the door when it slowly swung inward. He looked at his brother in surprise and felt his muscles tensing up with apprehension. Together they dropped their bags to the floor and removed two small flasks from within them.

Dean went in first, ready to throw holy water at the slightest movement that caught his eye. The light from the moon shone through the windows and gave them better vision in the dark flat. Sam followed behind his brother and grabbed a hold of the coat rack that lay not far from the door before moving further.

Both men looked at the first door to their right and saw an empty room. They moved to the next one and saw that this was empty as well. At the very end of the hall they were in was a flight of stairs leading to the second floor. They heard the sound of footsteps coming from above and stiffened.

Dean signaled to his brother and together they went up the stairs. They took the steps at a snail's pace; trying not to make any noise and alert the stranger in the apartment. Dean saw a flicker of light from under the gaps of one of the doors and pointed out his discovery to Sam. The brothers moved swiftly across the floor and pressed their backs against the wall, standing on either side of the door.

Dean caught Sam's attention and pointed to himself then to the door. Sam narrowed his eyes and shook his head. The other glared, causing Sam to sigh and relent. There was no time for arguments and stalling further would only give the stranger more time to become aware of their presence. Dean lifted his hand and silently counted to three.

"One…two…three!" With a loud bang Dean shoved himself into the room first and threw the contents of the flask at whatever he saw. A figure sitting on a chair screamed, startled by the attack and held his face as the sound of sizzling rose into the air. Sam quickly followed after his brother and swung the coat rack at the stranger's head, knocking him down to the ground.

While Sam attacked, Dean frantically looked around the house in search for something to use against the demon. With help from the light that came from a candle on a small coffee table, Dean's eyes caught sight of a rug in front of a door leading to another room. The edge of it was folded, revealing something that was painted on the ground. With hope rising, he pulled the rug back and saw a familiar symbol painted on the floor.

"Sammy! There's a devil's trap on the ground over here." Dean shouted. Sam grabbed the stranger and dragged him towards Dean's direction before throwing him under the symbol. The man fell to the ground with a thud and moaned loudly as he curled up his body in pain.

"Bloody hell you blooming arseholes! What were you thinking?!" He cried.

"We're thinking, _what's a demon doing in a hunter's crib_?" Dean said as he stood with his arms crossed. Sam moved towards the light switch and flipped it on, bringing light into the room and causing the demon to wince. "Where's the hunter and what did you do to him?"

"What hunter? I didn't do anything to anyone!"

"Oh, like we're going to believe in that bullshit!" The man gave a softer groan as he slowly recovered from the pain and sat up from the ground, glaring heatedly at the brothers.

"Look, I'm telling you the truth. I didn't do anything."

"Then tell us what you're doing in a hunter's house." Sam demanded. The demon glared at them.

"Listen, just let me out of this trap and I'll leave. I'm not looking for trouble."

"You're leaving all right. Sam, do it." The demon's eyes widened as he staggered up to his feet and tried to move forward. The symbol under him trapped him like a barrier but he was becoming hysterical.

"Come on chaps, this isn't necessary. I'm not like the rest of them. Please don't send me back there! That hunter you were talking about…I know him and he was the one who wanted me to come here. It's the truth." Sam began to recite the first words of the exorcism chant he memorized and watched as the demon screamed and held his head in his hands. The windows were thrown open and a strong gust of wind went in and circled around the room, blowing out the candle on the table and causing the objects to tumble down to the ground.

Dean stood behind Sam while he watched the exorcism and never sensed the presence of someone else walking up to their backs. He didn't have time to react as he was pulled back and pushed down to the ground. Sam stopped chanting when he heard the commotion and turned to find a gun aimed at him. The demon was breathing heavily as he stared up at his unexpected savior with relief.

"Well now…aren't you a sight…for sore eyes!" He panted. The newcomer ignored him as he glanced coolly at the taller Winchester.

"I'm sorry for this rude greeting, but may I have your word that you won't send the demon back to hell?" Sam stared at the other man in disbelief. The face was still young, but much older than the one in the picture. His blue eyes looked so much like Bobby's, their dad's or anyone else in the hunter's business for that matter. Sam could see that, just like them, he had lost so much and seen so many horrors in a single lifetime.

"Ethan Calwell?" He asked. The young blond haired man smiled and gave a short nod.

"And the two of you are the Winchesters." He dropped his aim and pocketed his gun before raising both of his hands up in the air. Dean grunted as he staggered up and glared at Ethan.

"Give me one good reason why we shouldn't go ahead and beat the crap out of the two of you."

"I'll gladly give you two. First, I'm not a demon, I'm your ally. Second, as much as I hate to admit it, Lucas here is an important acquaintance of mine. We're going to need his resources if we're to find this seal of yours." He could still see the skepticism in both brothers and took a few steps back to stand under the devil's trap. A few seconds later, he easily stepped out.

"All right so you're not a demon. That still doesn't explain why you're hanging out with him." Dean said.

"That's a tale for another time. There's still too much we need to discuss." Ethan moved across the room towards a bookshelf that lay against the wall behind Dean. After carefully making his way through the path of overthrown objects, he took a piece of chalk from a small box then went back to the devil's trap. "Lucas, I assume that, as always, you came into my home uninvited because you have news for me."

"Right you are. I listened to some of the conversations they were having, just like you told me to, and you were right. Something did happen two weeks ago, though no one is certain about what it was or who were involved. Now there's a small group of demons who are looking around the city for some fellow. I believe these are the ones who know everything about what's happened."

"Anything else about this person they're looking for?"

"Only that he's a clever dick for keeping himself hidden from anyone this long. Almost as clever as me I'd say." Ethan raised an eyebrow at him.

"All right. I want you to keep listening for other news and find out more about this mysterious person the demons are interested in."

"That's a mighty big request you're making mate."

"I'm sure a clever dick like you can carry it out easily." Ethan kneeled on the floor and drew a short line on top of a portion of the symbol. "Hopefully you've learned your lesson about coming into my home in an attempt to surprise me."

The demon stepped out of the trap with a sigh of relief, stretching out his limbs and rubbing the back of his head before looking at the Winchesters expectantly. Dean stared back then narrowed his eyes.

"What?"

"Well? Won't you say anything to me?"

"Yeah, don't break into other people's houses." Lucas gave a sigh and lifted his hands up in defeat before he turned around and walked out of the room. They could hear him going down the stairs and closing the front door as he left. Sam waited for a while longer, watching Ethan pick up the objects that fell down before speaking up.

"You think this has something to do with the breaking of a seal?"

"I can't be too certain of that yet." Ethan returned the objects back to their proper places before looking at the brothers and rubbing both his hands dry with a grin on his face.

"Well then, are you chaps hungry?"

* * *

Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he watched Dean place a second plate on top of the first one. Dinner was over, to his relief, but Dean had managed to sneak in dessert without him knowing. With a frown, he recalled the restaurant's menu to mind and noticed that Dean ordered some of the more expensive dishes they had. Ethan sat across the two throughout dinner; his amused silence broken by a chuckle when he saw Sam's frown.

"You can relax Sam. I'm the one who will pay for dinner so you don't have to wash the dishes later." He teased.

"Thanks for bringing us out for dinner, but you didn't have to do this…we would have been okay with take-out or somewhere less...expensive."

"Nonsense. It's your first night here in the city and I want to give you a warm welcome to replace the one you had earlier."

"This welcome is definitely a lot better than the first." Dean agreed. Ethan smiled as a waiter arrived with Dean's dessert. After he paid for their dinner, Ethan took a deep breath and settled into his chair.

"Now, I should brief the two of you on what happened in the weeks before you arrived. Two days ago, Bobby rung to ask if I could share my flat with the two of you. During that time, I was investigating several deaths that have occurred in the past two weeks. The victims came from different lifestyles and areas around the city, most of them were in their mid-twenties. Their bodies were either discovered floating in the river or lying on the ground in some narrow street days after they supposedly went missing. The general reports say that there were several cuts on the bodies and that some have missing organs." Sam and Dean looked at each other before glancing at Ethan.

"I don't mean to sound so unappreciative of your help, but this sounds like something for policemen, not hunters." Sam pointed out.

"I had similar thoughts when I first heard of it, but I have a mate in Scotland Yard who came up to me and mentioned how they completely lost sight of the killer while on pursuit. They said it was as if he had vanished into thin air. Since he knew I was a hunter, he thought I should see if this was a matter concerning the supernatural. Naturally I agreed to help."

"The night when Bobby called, another woman had been taken away by our mysterious killer. I chased after the criminal myself and just like the inspectors mentioned, he vanished as if he had never been there. This, of course, can mean anything. It doesn't have to be a supernatural occurrence."

"I still don't get why you're telling us these things." Dean said.

"I had my own reasons for continuing the investigation despite how it seemed to stray from a hunter's usual work. But fortunately, Lucas has provided us a reason to suspect that there is more to this killer than meets the eye."

"So you trust Lucas in saying that other demons are looking for a certain man? And you think this man is the same one as this killer?" Sam asked.

"It's too much of a coincidence to be otherwise. But it's still a theory of course. I might be right or I might be entirely mistaken." Ethan picked up his cup of coffee and stirred it lightly with his spoon. As he drank, he glanced at them over the rim of his cup.

"You're wondering why I'm placing my trust on a demon." He stated, placing the cup back on the table.

"Well it's not every day you meet a hunter who's all buddy with a demon." Dean said.

"The first time I met him I wanted to send him back as much as you did earlier tonight. Let's just say that after all these years of chasing after him, he and I finally arrived at an arrangement that would suit us both. Believe it or not, Lucas doesn't agree with raising Lucifer from hell and starting a war with the divine. He simply wants to be left alone to do whatever he feels like doing.

"I don't know how things work in America. A hunter and a demon siding together might seem ludicrous or taboo to you, but let me remind you gentlemen that you are not in America anymore. You are in London, and unless you want to dive headfirst into an ocean filled with bloodthirsty sharks, you might want to decide now on whom to trust this early in the hunt."

"Don't worry, we trust you." Sam said. "We have our own share of demon friends…" He refused to look back at Dean who was giving him a knowing glance.

"I see…" Everyone fell in a moment of silence, each man contemplating on the discussion so far.

"So have you looked at the bodies yet?" Sam asked.

"Scotland Yard knows nothing of my involvement or of the fact that there are supernatural beings that exist. Therefore I'm still waiting for my mate to give me the approval to go into the morgue. He's doing everything he can to help me with my own investigation while at the same time keeping my existence hidden from the inspectors."

"Why don't Sammy and I just go in there and show off our badges? Give us a few minutes with them and we'll get you in." Dean suggested.

"I appreciate the offer but I wouldn't suggest it. Scotland Yard isn't welcoming to Americans, especially American investigators."

"So what the hell are we supposed to do? Just sit on our asses all day and wait?"

"Of course not. You can lie down or stand up if you want." Ethan ignored the glare Dean was shooting at him as he stood up from his chair. "Well then, if there's nothing else I suggest we all make our way back to my home. It's getting late and it's been a while since I last had an early night." He waited for the Winchesters to stand up and led them out of the restaurant.


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Another new disclaimer that I should put in as well : I do not own Jack the Ripper nor do I claim to know anything about the truth behind the serial killer. What information about him that you will read from now on mostly comes from internet sources. Most of them will be from **Casebook: Jack the Ripper**. PM me for the link or look for it yourself if you're interested to read the general story behind Jack the Ripper.

**Chapter 3**

Sam woke up, startled at how unfamiliar his surrounding were. It took him a minute to remember that he was sleeping at Ethan's house and that he and Dean weren't in America anymore. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and got out of bed as he made his way to the bathroom to freshen up.

After he was clean and wide awake, Sam went downstairs. He could hear the sound of Ethan's voice speaking, as well as the sound of something sizzling. He followed the aroma of eggs and butter and entered the kitchen to find Ethan standing over a frying pan with a metal spatula in his hand. He was talking into a cellphone that was pinched between his shoulder and his ear.

"…two more people? They're both quite capable of hiding from unwanted attention I assure you…Yes I need them to accompany me…Thank you very much…Your terrifying threat has been duly noted. Good morning, Will." He looked over his shoulder as he placed the phone in his pocket and smiled at the younger Winchester.

"Good morning Sam. I hope the room was to your liking."

"It's great, thanks. But is it all right for both Dean and I to have our own rooms? Where are the others who live here?"

"I own the whole flat so you have nothing to worry about. Come sit down, I'm making omelettes for the three of us." Sam sat down on a chair as he watched Ethan cook.

"Who was that on the phone?" He asked.

"It's my mate at Scotland Yard. He told me that he's given us time to go into the morgue without any interference from his colleagues." Sam began to stand up from his chair.

"Should I wake Dean up?"

"We won't be going into the morgue until later in the afternoon. But I can prepare a bucket of ice or cold water for you right now if you want." Ethan added with a mischievous grin. Sam chuckled as he sat back down and shook his head.

"You're just as bad as he is…"

"I'll gladly take that as a compliment." Ethan transferred the omelette from the frying pan to a plate then went to the refrigerator to get more eggs.

"Is there anything you want to add in your omelette? Cheese? Vegetables? Don't be shy; I restocked my refrigerator precisely for this reason."

"Uh…anything's good. I'll have whatever you're having." Sam replied. He watched as Ethan cracked the eggs and began beating them in the bowl.

"I suppose your brother will also opt for the same thing in his omelette."

"He'll eat anything as long as it tastes good…and it's not vegetarian." Sam added as an afterthought.

"Well let's hope that my cooking comes to his standards then." Ethan said with a chuckle. While he put the mixture in the frying pan, he turned his gaze to Sam. "Last night you mentioned that you have…_special friends_ as well."

"It's nothing, really. There's this female demon who's been helping us out for the past few months. She told Bobby how to make the special bullets for the Colt and even had a knife that was able to kill demons." Sam explained. Ethan's hands froze as he glanced at Sam with one eyebrow raised.

"A knife that kills demons? Where is it now? And how did this knife come to her possession?"

"We would have brought it with us if we could, but since we couldn't smuggle it here we asked Bobby to keep it safe. As for how Ruby got her hands on the knife in the first place, well she doesn't really talk much about it so I'm not entirely sure how the knife was made or how it could kill demons so easily."

"And where is this Ruby now?"

"She's back in America. Trying not to get herself killed I guess."

"I see." Ethan went back to making omelettes. He fell silent for a few minutes, pondering on what he had learned from their conversation, before speaking up again. "So how's Bobby doing?"

"Huh? Oh he's fine. Still in good hunting shape. Whenever Dean and I find ourselves in a tight situation, he's always there to help us out."

"He does the very same thing for me. He taught me everything I know about hunting. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be a hunter today." Sam saw a wistful smile appear on the blond haired man's face as he seemed to fall into old memories.

"Didn't your father teach you everything about hunting?" He asked.

"I'm afraid not. I only learned everything when Bobby became my guardian and taught me how to survive against the supernatural beings. I believe my father didn't want me to fall into the same line of work and tried to keep me away from it as much as he could." Ethan looked at Sam and pointed at him with the spatula he held in his hand.

"How about you? Did your father teach you about hunting?"

"Yeah. He taught me about it when I was old enough to understand and help him out in his hunts." Ethan frowned slightly as he inspected Sam's face then passed him the plate of omelette and a fork.

"I'm sorry about what happened to your father. I met him a few times when Bobby was still taking care of me and teaching me all about hunting. He was an impressive hunter and I find it a great honor to be working with his sons."

"Um…thanks…" Sam said as he stared at the plate in his hands. "…I'm sorry too; about what happened to your family." Ethan fell silent at first as he regarded the younger Winchester then nodded and smiled at him.

"I see you've done your research well." He didn't say anything else as he began frying the last omelette. The two men heard the sound of footsteps from the stairs and turned their gazes to the kitchen's entrance to see Dean walking in.

"Is there some place where we can get pie?" He asked.

"There's a diner we can pass by before we go to the morgue. We can go there for lunch." Ethan replied. Seeing the confused look on Dean's face he explained further. "My mate at Scotland Yard has given us the opportunity to look at all the victims' bodies later this afternoon. So we have the morning all to ourselves."

"So…what are we going to do while we're waiting?"

"There are several sights you may want to visit. After all, it's your first time here in London so I say you should enjoy it while you still have the opportunity to do so."

"Sounds good to me. What do you think Sammy?"

"Sure. I don't mind." Sam replied with a shrug.

* * *

Inspector William Roylott paced in front of the door to the morgue. From time to time he would stop and glance at either side of the alley. For the fifth time, he checked his wristwatch and frowned at it. Just when he was about to give up and leave, he heard the sounds of an engine and turned to find a black car coming into the alley.

He waited, arms crossed and a reprimand at the tip of his mouth, as he watched three men emerge from the car. His irritation was immediately directed to the blond haired driver who was smiling apologetically at him.

"When I said four in the afternoon, I meant four in the afternoon. I won't spend my time waiting for you when I still have other important things to do."

"Sorry mate, we got a little distracted and lost track of time. You want some pie?"

"Bringing a peace offering is not going to make me forgive you."

"It's not a peace offering. Your peace offering, if there exists one, would be in the form of a package as big as you are. Now, if you don't mind, my friends and I need to see those bodies." Will glanced behind Ethan and saw Sam and Dean standing there.

"Are they hunters too?"

"They are. Will, I'd like you to meet Sam and Dean Winchester from America. Sam, Dean, meet William Roylott of Scotland Yard." The three shook hands with each other before Will led them into the back door of the morgue.

"I can only show you at least three bodies. The rest were returned to their families after we were done examining them so you'll have to settle for their autopsy reports." Will showed them into a room where three corpses lay covered in a white sheet. He grabbed a folder on one of the tables and handed it to Ethan.

"All of the bodies show signs of being strangled or beaten to death before the mutilation began. An organ was taken from some of the victims; the list of what was taken is in there as well. You can also find a detailed report of the killer's method in those files." All three men leaned forward at the first body and looked at it as Will pulled the sheet away.

"What a nutjob." Dean muttered as he grimaced at the sight.

"Was there anything in the report that we should pay attention to?" Ethan asked.

"The coroners who inspected them said that the way the killer took out the organs was strange."

"Strange how?"

"They believe the tools used by the killer were surgical tools. And the method used in taking out the organ was somewhat old fashioned. There was no trace of anesthesia in the bodies with missing organs and there are bruises on the wrist and the ankles. It's a clear indication that when our killer took out these organs, the victims were strapped to some flat surface and very painfully aware of what was going on during surgery." At this piece of information both Dean and Sam looked at each other. It was Sam who went up to Ethan, tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention.

"Ethan, can we have a word with you?" The blond haired man nodded and excused themselves from Will as they made their way to a corner of the room.

"So I take it that this is a familiar scenario to the two of you." He asked as he looked from one brother to the other. It was Sam who nodded in reply.

"Our father told us a story of Doctor Benton, a doctor in the 19th Century who found a way to preserve his life by replacing his organs every once in a while."

"But we buried the sonofabitch months ago." Dean said.

"Not to mention that he didn't take victims and steal their organs for several days in a row. He also didn't kill them when he was done; he would leave them in some abandoned warehouse in a cold tub of ice to keep them alive. He didn't throw them into a river or a deserted alley to rot." Sam added.

"It might not be the same doctor, but the idea behind replacing organs to keep living is a possibility we should consider." Ethan said.

While the three hunters were discussing the many theories behind the strange occurrences, Will's phone vibrated in his pocket. Since they were all busy, the inspector picked it up and spoke with the caller. After a few minutes his brows furrowed and his hands clenched the phone tightly. He took a deep breath before giving commands to the caller then hung up.

"I'm sorry to interrupt the three of you, but we've got a new lead on our killer." He said. Ethan, Sam and Dean made their way back to where Will was, looking at him expectantly.

"What happened?" Sam asked.

"I got a call from one of my men. They said that the Strand reported receiving a package and a letter from a man who calls himself 'Jack the Ripper'." At the name, all three widened their eyes.

"Jack the Ripper? The psychotic serial killer who loves slicing women? _That_ Jack the Ripper?" Dean repeated. Will nodded gravely.

"I have to head back to Scotland Yard and see what's going on."

"Don't worry. There's nothing else for us to find here." Ethan said. "But I would like to keep a copy of all the autopsy reports on the bodies."

"I'll send it over to you later." Will nodded to him then to Sam and Dean before running as quickly as he could towards the door. The other three followed the first man and exited the morgue. When they were standing outside the door, Ethan looked at the brothers with a frown.

"This is an unfortunate turn of events."

"I can't believe we're actually chasing Jack the Ripper!" Dean said. A small smile formed on Ethan's face.

"You sound excited."

"Well, we get to kick the ass of one of the most famous serial killers in the world! Don't you want to find out who the dude is? I mean, no one has ever figured out who he was! No one's captured him before and we get to be the first ones to do it."

"That's precisely the reason why this isn't a good thing."Ethan said, dampening the older brother's spirits. "If this man is who he claims to be, then it would be even more difficult to locate him or possibly his remains. And don't forget that the demons might also be looking for him."

"We need more information." Sam said. Ethan nodded to him.

"I agree. Since Lucas has been tasked to continue listening to the demons, you and your brother can help me look for anything about Jack the Ripper or any lore or legend that can corroborate or explain the serial killer's sudden appearance."

"Is it possible that Jack the Ripper did the same thing Doctor Benton did?"

"It's an idea, but I believe we won't get much if we focus our attentions there. If Jack the Ripper was taking organs to preserve his life he would have needed to do it several times from the 19th Century until the present. One of the hunters would have learned of his existence and would have put a stop to him then. And if by chance he's been successful in keeping his presence hidden, why make it known now?

"No, I believe that this so called Jack the Ripper and the event that occurred weeks ago among the demons Lucas mentioned are connected to each other. They immediately occurred right after the other and it's too much of a coincidence for my taste. Once we find and capture this serial killer, no doubt a lot of our questions will be answered and we'll be one step ahead the demons." Dean sighed as he scratched the back of his head.

"This sucks. It's like we're playing 'Where's Waldo?' against the demons."

"You mean 'Wally'. That's the name of the character." Ethan corrected. Dean looked at him strangely.

"No, it's 'Waldo'. We're both talking about that funny dude with the red and white striped shirt that you have to look all over for in the books right?"

"Yes. He was originally named Wally by the British creator. Why you Americans chose to change it to Waldo is beyond me."

"Whatever." Dean muttered as he waved a hand at him. Sam shook his head at the two.

"Can we get back to the serial killer and the demons?" He said. Ethan smiled at the younger Winchester and nodded.

"Of course. I say we make a trip to the library and see what we can find there."


	5. Chapter 4

**AN:** Here's a little something for you guys during the Holy Week (for those who practice it). Another big shout-out to Kiri and Sparrow for beta-ing my story. Read and Review and enjoy! XD

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Doctor John Watson felt that things couldn't be going more perfectly than they already were. He was a humble practitioner, with little to complain to or ask for in life, and recently married to the woman he loved. He was in a bright and cheery mood that day that he thought it would be good to visit his old friend and see how he was doing.

He arrived at 221B Baker Street and made his way to the sitting room after a warm greeting to the landlady, Mrs. Hudson. When he entered, he found his friend and ex-flatmate lying stretched out on his armchair, inspecting a piece of paper he was holding up in the air. The Doctor raised an eyebrow but made no comment. Such occurrences were usual in the other man and he knew that his friend would explain everything to him in his own time.

He sat down on a chair across his friend and waited patiently for the other to take notice of him. While waiting he looked around the room. Things looked quite the same as when he had left and it brought a little nostalgia in him to see things from his bachelor life.

"Yes Watson, although it is quite similar in position and size, you have never seen that black, burnt spot on the wall before today. It was from a chemical experiment I performed yesterday." The Doctor was startled out of his thoughts as he turned his gaze to his friend who was looking at him in amusement.

"The resemblance is uncanny." The Doctor commented. "But how did you - "

"Watson my dear, if a man who has been away from familiar surroundings is once more confronted by it, he is likely to look around and see how much has changed – or not changed for that matter. When I see you smiling at my chemical set I know that you are recalling the many times in which I have performed my experiments. Then your gaze moved towards the black spot and you looked at it in confusion. You recalled that a black spot had been there before but you also recalled that Mrs. Hudson had cleaned it. You then wondered if you had merely imagined that the black spot had been cleaned or if this was a new one."

"Why yes, it's exactly as you say Holmes." Watson looked back at the black spot with a grimace. "Mrs. Hudson must have been furious with you. I believe this is the third time that she has removed a burnt spot from her wall because of your experiments."

"Mrs. Hudson does not appreciate the importance of my work." Holmes scoffed. "My experiment was crucial work which led to the apprehension of one Christopher Bates who, if you've been reading recent news, you'd know was responsible for the murder of a retired inspector. I was able to prove that the poison utilized could be found in the stains on the suspect's pants, therefore undoubtedly incriminating him." He explained.

"I did hear of the case and I congratulate you on your success." Watson said. The other man smiled as he set the paper he was holding on the table.

"It's good to see you again Watson. You couldn't have come at a better time."

"Do you have a new case at hand?" Watson asked. In reply, Sherlock Holmes gestured to the paper. While Watson moved to pick it up, the detective made his way to the window and peered out at the streets. Watson looked at the letter and read it aloud.

"_Dear Mr. Holmes, I am in great need of your assistance concerning a strange matter that has befallen me. I will come by your apartments at one o'clock if it will not inconvenience you. Yours faithfully, Mrs. Olivia Calwell_. Do you know this woman Holmes?"

"I have never heard of her until today. What I do know is that she is a woman of twenty and eight, is right-handed, has long blond hair, has at least one child, and is currently grieving the death of a loved one." Watson looked up from the paper at Holmes who didn't take his gaze away from the window.

"Come now Holmes, how could you possibly infer all that from a piece of paper?"

"Simple. I didn't infer from the paper, I inferred from the woman herself. For if I am not mistaken, that woman I see outside our window, who is making her way here at this moment, is the very one we are to meet." As if on cue, the two men heard the doorbell ring from downstairs. Holmes moved swiftly back to his armchair just as they heard footsteps on the stairs and a knock on the door. Mrs. Hudson entered the room and looked at Holmes.

"Mrs. Calwell here to see you Mr. Holmes."

"Send her in Mrs. Hudson." As the landlady stepped out, a woman dressed in black entered the room. She had long blond hair that was carelessly tied up in a bun and slightly sunken eyes that spoke of late nights without sleep. She was pale and seemed fatigued yet she carried a bag on her shoulders tightly with such strength as if determined to never let it go. Watson stood up and led her to a seat while Holmes stayed where he was.

"Mrs. Calwell, this is Doctor Watson. I hope that you will permit him to stay while you present your problem to me. He has accompanied me in several of my past cases and has been an invaluable asset in arriving at the solution." Holmes said.

"It's all right with me. If he is able to help me with my troubles then I would be very indebted to both of you." Mrs. Calwell replied. Holmes nodded as he spoke again.

"Before we begin Mrs. Calwell, my condolences for your loss." The blond haired woman bowed her head.

"Thank you. It is my husband who died and it is for this reason that I have come here to seek your services."

"Pray, state your case." Watson sat down in another chair and settled in as their client began her tale.

"You see Mr. Holmes, my husband, Randall Calwell, works as an accountant to a small law firm. Unfortunately, his employer required him to stay in the office until late in the evening. I was worried, but Randall would always reassure me that he could take care of himself. Everything was well until a week ago, when the inspectors arrived at my doorstep to tell me that thieves had attacked my husband and killed him. All of his possessions were taken away from him save for this one." Holmes and Watson leaned forward as Mrs. Calwell opened her bag and pulled out a small notebook.

"This was found inside his clothes, in a small and hidden pocket that he had apparently sewn into his coat. The inspectors could not understand what he had written in it and so they returned it to me. I had never seen this notebook before, but I instantly recognized my husband's handwriting. Mr. Holmes, I know that my husband has passed away, but I wish to know the contents of this notebook. Please tell me what connection it had to my husband; for him to have the need to protect it to such an extent. I know that it is wrong for me to think ill of my husband, but I fear that he might have been part of a terrible, dangerous affair." Watson took the notebook from Mrs. Calwell and looked at the first page. He furrowed his brows in confusion as he tried to read what looked like a series of random letters and symbols.

"I can make neither heads nor tails of this strange message. And I believe that the handwriting in the next paragraph is different from that of the first one."

"Yes, I had noticed that as well. There are several other unknown handwritings found in the succeeding pages, but I don't know to whom they belong." Mrs. Calwell said. Watson handed the notebook to Holmes, who had his hand held out expectantly. The detective kept silent as he flipped through the pages and glanced over the content. After glancing at the last entry he closed the notebook and placed it beside him.

"You are certain that you have never seen this notebook before?"

"Yes."

"And what of your husband's clothes? Was the coat he wore during that night the only one with a hidden pocket?"

"No. I checked all of his clothes and found that some of the coats and shirts have similar hidden pockets sewn into them."

"What can you tell me of his colleagues who are working in the same firm?"

"Randall was a very friendly person, so I would not be surprised if he had befriended everyone in the office. I have met a few of them, including their employer, and they seem to be fine gentlemen. But I have only met them a few times when Randall invites some of them to our home or when I accompany him to parties and dinners."

"I see. One last question, if you please; has your husband recently shown anxiety, worry or any other emotion that you might consider unnatural for him?"

"Not that I know of. When he left that morning he was as cheerful as he had ever been."

"Thank you Mrs. Calwell. If it will not trouble you, I request that you leave this notebook in our possession. I shall notify you of what I find when I have deciphered the messages in the notebook."

"I'm very grateful for your help Mr. Holmes, it eases my mind to know that you will look into this strange affair." Watson could see that speaking of her husband had tired the poor woman and so he helped her stand up and patted her hand comfortingly as he led her out of the room.

"Rest assured, Mrs. Calwell, Holmes and I will do everything in our power to see to your case."

"Thank you Doctor. And thank you Mr. Holmes. Good afternoon gentlemen." With a small bow she left their sitting room. Watson courteously showed her to the front door then came back to the sitting room to find Holmes already deep in the pages of the notebook.

"Quite a dreary affair." Watson commented.

"What makes you say so?" Holmes asked; his eyes still trained to the notebook.

"Well, for the man to have kept this notebook so close to him, it's clear that the content was important to him. And perhaps the cause of his death was not merely something as coincidental as being robbed by thieves." Holmes looked up and shook his head in disapproval.

"My dear Watson, you are making judgments without having all the facts at hand. For all we know these writings may merely contain fanciful ideas and random foolishness. We must first look into these messages and see their contents." Watson's gaze followed Holmes as he stood up and made his way to his bedroom.

"I shall spend the rest of the day deciphering these messages. If you wish to learn of my findings, come back tomorrow at the same hour. Oh and before you leave, kindly notify Mrs. Hudson that I intend to take a very late supper this evening."

"Or no supper at all..." Watson muttered to himself, shaking his head with a wistful smile. He couldn't help but think of how Holmes still hadn't changed much from when Watson first met him.

* * *

With a grunt, followed by a groan, Dean placed the book he was reading on the table and stretched his arms above him as high as he could. He then stood up and made his way to Ethan who was sitting at one of the computer stations.

"Tell me again why Sam and I have to suffer flipping through pages while you get to sit in that comfy swivelling chair and have an easier time searching?" He asked.

"Because this is the only unoccupied computer at this time and as a fellow Englishman, I have the right to sit here more than you two." Ethan replied as he looked at Dean with a mischievous smirk. Dean grumbled to himself before turning his focus back to what they were supposed to do.

"So did you find anything yet?" Dean asked. Ethan's cheery mood subsided a little as he frowned.

"Unfortunately, most of the information on Jack the Ripper isn't exact enough to be of much help. There are so many suspects and so many theories on the killer that I can't even begin to decide which one we should look into first. Going through them one by one is going to take too long, so I've decided that trying to find Jack the Ripper's identity is something we should cast aside for now. Instead I looked for several theories on how he appeared in the first place. One thing's for sure, your theory on how he keeps himself alive by getting organs isn't likely. His method of organ snatching doesn't match any of the methods recorded in history."

"So what is he? Is he still human or is he a spirit?"

"Well we could suppose that he's human, but that would mean he's found some way to gain immortality, which I don't think is possible even in our realm of the supernatural. A most likely conclusion would be that Jack the Ripper is now a spirit. But since these activities have only occurred recently, we can assume that his spirit was awakened or brought back here through some means that the demons used."

"Or he could be a demon himself."

"Yes, that is a possibility..." Ethan mused. He sighed as he leaned back in the chair then swivelled around in boredom.

"Ethan, I have a question." Sam spoke up. The Englishman stopped spinning and looked at the younger Winchester who was sitting on a chair beside the computer station.

"Yes?"

"Were there any man holes at any of the places where this killer suddenly disappeared?" Ethan pursed his lips in thought.

"I can't remember, but I think there was one when I was chasing him. I'll ask Will about it later. Why? What have you got?"

"I've been looking at how Jack the Ripper killed his victims and escaped. There was a theory mentioned here that the killer used the London sewers as his means of escape."

"So? It's not like we can catch the killer by knowing just that." Dean said.

"But it could help us when we're chasing him. I mean, if we can't find anything on who he is or where he lives, then the only other option we have in getting to him before the demons is to chase him ourselves. At least by knowing how he does his killings, we can get to him quicker." Ethan had been listening to the brothers while he sat slouched in his chair. When Sam gave his suggestion he widened his eyes and sat upright.

"That's it!" The two brothers looked at him in confusion.

"What's it?" Dean asked.

"I have an even better way of getting our man." He began. "But we can't talk about it here. Let's go and have dinner at my favourite place in the country. We can have our discussion while we're on the way. Come along now gentlemen, I have the pleasure of introducing the two of you to one of the finest pubs you could ever find here in London." At the word pub, Dean's eyes lit up.

"All right! Now that's what I'm talking about." Sam sighed but he stood up from his chair. The group cleaned their area first before leaving the library and getting into Ethan's car. Once they were on the road, the Englishman began speaking.

"When Sam mentioned about needing to know Jack the Ripper's methods in killing, I realized that we _could_ use that knowledge to get to our man. But we don't need to chase him ourselves. We can have someone else do it for us."

"You want us to hand over the job to someone else?" Dean asked as he gave Ethan a strange look.

"Yes, and no. Think of it this way; Jack the Ripper was alive in the 19th Century right? The reason why the inspectors during their time failed to capture Jack the Ripper was because they lacked evidence and the knowledge we have about forensic science. And the reason why we can't figure out his identity now is because he's already dead and the trail's gone cold. What if we combined both in order to have a chance at getting our man?"

"And how do you expect us to do that?"

"By handing over our knowledge to the past." Sam and Dean looked at each other, unsure how to reply. Ethan glanced at them through the rear-view mirror and laughed when he saw their faces.

"I know how impossible it sounds, but I have something here than can help us do precisely that. You see, the Calwell family has always been a family of hunters. At least one of every generation takes over the profession. One of my ancestors devised a way for the generations to communicate with each other in any place and any time, entirely taking away the limitations in space and time. If I spoke with a Calwell who lived in the 19th Century, around the time when Jack the Ripper was doing his killings, I can tell him what we know of Jack the Ripper now and he can chase after Jack the Ripper for us. Once he finds the killer's identity, he can share the information with us. It might not bring us directly to our man, since the demons know his identity and where his remains are, but at least knowing what they know levels the playing field to a considerable extent."

"If you can speak with people from the past, then why not just ask them to kill Jack the Ripper and hide him somewhere the demons can't get to? It would make things a whole lot easier for us." Dean said.

"Because if we did, then the demons wouldn't be able to revive him now, and you probably wouldn't be here speaking to me. Or if you are, then we wouldn't be speaking about Jack the Ripper. Instead we would be doing something else concerning an entirely different situation, which is impossible since we are talking about Jack the Ripper. It's a golden rule for every Calwell hunter that they should be willing to help another Calwell, but they must not help in such a way that the entire course of history changes. Everything in the past is already mandated, meaning everything that could affect the past has already happened because it's in the past. To try and change that is futile." Dean scratched the back of his head.

"I give up. As long as you know what you're doing, I'm fine with it."

"It might not be the means to an end, but it's a start." Sam said.

"So how are you going to talk with your ancestors?" Dean asked. While one hand was on the wheel, Ethan's other hand rummaged around his pockets. He took out a small notebook and tossed it to the two men in the back seat.

"We're going to use that to speak with them."


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N**: *gasp* Surprised? Yes! I'm still alive! Thankfully I had spare time to fix everything up after having it beta-ed by my good friends Kiri and Sparrow. ^^ I'm sure you guys know how this works by now; Read, review and enjoy!

**Chapter 5**

Throughout that morning Watson couldn't help but constantly turn his thoughts to his good friend and the strange case that was handed over to them by Mrs. Calwell. He wondered about the contents of the notebook and what it would mean for the unfortunate widow. He tried to think of possible explanations and theories on what happened to Mr. Randall Calwell but he could only make guesses based on what he had heard from the man's wife. He was sure that Holmes would have more to tell him when he returned to Baker Street that afternoon.

On the appointed time Watson arrived at Baker Street and heard the sounds of a violin playing some random, self-composed tune. He climbed up the stairs and noted how the melody sounded calm and soothing to the ears. He entered the sitting room and found the detective sitting on his armchair before the desk littered with pieces of paper as well as the notebook they borrowed from Mrs. Calwell.

"Ah, Watson, I've been expecting you. Mrs. Hudson has baked biscuits for the two of us. Please, have some." Holmes said. Watson glanced at the tray and accepted Holmes' offer as he took one from the plate.

"I can see that you have finished deciphering the messages in the notebook and have found something of interest." Watson commented. Holmes smiled at the Doctor as he placed his violin to one side of the chair. Then he grabbed the small notebook on the desk together with the pieces of paper and handed them all to the other man.

"Deciphering them was an easy task; the technique applied to these messages was quite basic. But I find the contents of the messages...questionable." Watson began reading the translated messages side by side with the original ones. His brows furrowed deeper in confusion the more of them he read.

"What on earth does this all mean? They speak of demons and spirits as if they're a common occurrence. And one of the men was inquiring on the location of a grave so he could unearth it and burn the bones to ashes! Could it be that Randell Calwell was a practitioner of the dark arts and the occult?" He turned his gaze to Holmes in question but the detective said nothing. Watson turned back to the notebook and continued reading until he reached the last page. As he did he furrowed his brows and counted the number of messages and the ones Holmes translated. He double checked just in case he missed a message then looked back at Holmes in confusion.

"Holmes, you've forgotten to translate this last message." He pointed out.

"That's impossible. I translated all of it." The other man replied confidently.

"But your mark isn't present on the last message...and the number of messages that you've translated don't coincide with the number of messages in this notebook." Holmes stood up from his chair and peered over Watson's shoulder. His eyes darkened as he glanced at the last message written on the notebook.

"That was not there when I was deciphering last night." Watson widened his eyes in surprise.

"What? But then it means that someone has written on this notebook without your awareness."

"An equally impossible feat for I had no visitors after our meeting. I am certain that no one could have written on that notebook while it had been in my possession."

"Then how did this happen?" Holmes took the notebook from Watson and read the last message. The doctor looked up at Holmes expectantly, waiting for him to speak.

"What does it say?" He asked.

"_I have a request to make concerning a dangerous killer. Please respond as soon as possible._ The message has been written by a new person. A right-handed man. The exaggerated lines along the ends of the letters speaks of a hint of mischievousness and a flair for flamboyance. Yet it is clear in the bold, confident strokes that he was sure of what he has written. It is possible that this man is a student of Oxford, for I can recognize a slight similarity in the shorthand style which is standard to the university." Holmes went back to his desk and searched around the mess for his pen.

"What are you going to do?" Watson asked.

"Let us see what happens if I am to write a reply to this mysterious author..." The Doctor looked incredulously at Holmes, thinking that maybe the detective was just teasing him. But he watched as Holmes found his pen and began to write something on the notebook using the same manner in which the messages were written.

"You cannot possibly believe that you will receive a reply if you write on that notebook." He said.

"It is the only explanation to how this message appeared without my knowledge."

"But it could have been due to how late you stayed awake in deciphering all of these messages. It is not unreasonable that you missed a message."

"I did not miss any of the messages." Holmes stated firmly. Watson wanted to disagree further but he held back. He sat there with Holmes, tapping his toe impatiently as he watched Holmes finally place the pen down and stare at the notebook in anticipation. Seconds passed with both men waiting intensely for something to happen. Finally after waiting for a full minute Watson heard the detective give a sharp intake of breath. He moved quickly to where Holmes was sitting and looked down at the notebook with equal surprise.

The two men watched as words began to appear on the page right below Holmes' written message. Watson could see that it was written by the same man from before. It was as if an invisible hand was writing the message before them. Holmes hovered his hand above it, lifted the notebook and touched the page curiously. Still the words continued to move as if they had a life of their own. When it finally stopped Holmes read the message and translated it for Watson.

"_Who are you and what has happened to the man who owned this notebook?_ Hm...I believe that, at this point, telling the truth would yield better results than if we were to lie." Holmes wrote a message on the notebook in reply to the previous one. While he was writing Watson made his way back to the chair and sat down, staring incredulously at the other man.

"It is as if an invisible man is writing a reply to us in this very room. How is it possible that you are writing on that notebook as if speaking to another person?"

"I'm afraid that, as a man with very limited knowledge on such topics as magic and the supernatural, I cannot give an exact answer to your question. I can only confirm the fact that we are indeed speaking to another man with this notebook as a medium of communication."

"Surely there is some scientific explanation as to how this can happen. You can't possibly believe that all this is the work of magic and sorcery?"

"I only know and believe what I see. And unless both you and I are under the influence of a very strong drug capable of inducing hallucinations, we must accept the fact that this is something beyond our comprehension. Perhaps it is not magic, but as we have no knowledge of this notebook, we cannot arrive at a definitive answer." Watson was still worried but he accepted Holmes' reply and waited as Holmes finished writing.

"Has the other writer replied?" He asked.

"Yes, he is replying as we speak. He says, _Since you seem to be sincere in your writing, I'll assume that you have no ill will against Calwell. But, it would be better for you to immediately return this notebook to a hunter or more specifically, to one of his relatives or friends. _I wonder why he doesn't tell us to deliver the notebook to himself_."_

"What does he mean by a hunter?"

"Judging from the previous contents, it is most likely a reference to men who have these dealings with demons and spirits."

"Perhaps we should do as this man says and return the notebook to someone who may be better suited for the task."

"That does indeed seem to be our best course of action. Once I reply to the writer we shall make our way to Mrs. Calwell's residence." Holmes wrote a message in the notebook then left the pen on the desk while he pocketed the small notebook in his pants. Then he stood up from the chair and made his way towards Watson who was waiting by the door.

* * *

At seven 'o clock, the pub was starting to fill up with customers. The night had barely begun but a large amount of alcohol was already being passed around and some of the patrons were starting to get rowdy. The jukebox was blaring music while groups of avid football fans were glued to the TV and were cheering loudly for their respective teams. Sam tried to filter out the noise as he waited for the bartender to serve the drinks he ordered. The bartender, whom Ethan had introduced to the brothers earlier, placed three mugs of beer before the younger Winchester and smiled at him.

"Here you go luv. I'll bring the rest of your orders to your table when they're ready." She said.

"Thanks Marge." Sam replied with a smile of his own. He carried all three drinks and swerved around the tables as he made his way to a corner of the pub where Dean and Ethan were sitting. When he was a few meters away from the table, he could see his older brother looking at Ethan in disbelief. The Englishman was smiling at Dean like he was laughing at his own personal joke. Sam looked at the two men curiously as he set the drinks down on the table.

"What's going on?" He asked.

"Someone replied to Ethan's magic notebook but you'll never guess who it was." Dean said as he grabbed one of the mugs and took a gulp from it. Sam turned his gaze to Ethan expectantly.

"Uh...a Calwell?" Ethan chuckled in reply as he took out the notebook and showed it to Sam.

"See for yourself." The taller man took the notebook and, having been taught earlier how to decipher the messages by Ethan, read the messages that passed between Ethan and the other man. He raised his eyebrows when he saw the name of the other writer.

"You've got to be kidding me...Seriously? But that's impossible. This must be some kind of prank. I mean, your dad is an American right?" Sam reasoned.

"His great grandfather was European. Either way, I highly doubt that this writer's trying to fool us. Whoever this writer is, he's definitely living in the 19th Century; that's something that will never be argued on. Now, given that very certain fact, he would have no idea who this Sherlock Holmes is or, if he does, it'll be impossible for him to assume that this will have an impact on us. How would he know that the name Sherlock Holmes would be recognized up to this century? If he was merely trying to hide his real identity then why use that name among all the common names in the world? To everyone else, Sherlock Holmes was just a fictional character. If this fellow claims to be Sherlock Holmes, then it's most likely that he is the actual person." Ethan explained.

"But that's..."

"Anyway the main concern here isn't the authenticity of the writer. What I'm more worried about is the fact that the Calwell who currently owned the notebook was killed. And that someone with no experience as a hunter has it in his possession."

"In the first place, how the hell did you figure out that it wasn't your ancestor you were speaking to?" Dean asked.

"It's in the color of the ink that appeared. Red signifies that the writer is a Calwell. Blue would mean that someone else wrote it." Ethan replied.

"What if it was a demon or a vampire who wrote on it? They could be using this to get information on your family and your trade secrets or something." Sam asked.

"The ink would turn green if someone of a supernatural nature wrote on it. If it's another hunter though, I wouldn't know unless they said so. But there's one other color that will appear...purple means that a witch or someone with similar powers wrote on it. If you recall my story of how this notebook came to be, it was initially meant for witches. It wouldn't be surprising that they would want to pick out their own kind from the rest."

"Yeah, we remember. We also remember that one of your ancestors also decided to get a bit too friendly with one of them." Dean added. Ethan grimaced as he took his mug and drank from it before speaking.

"For the record, he didn't know as much about witches as we do now. He could possibly be the very first Calwell hunter."

"Bet you'd do the same if you were in his shoes." Sam told his older brother.

"Would not...okay maybe I would...maybe." Dean added after a moment's pause. During their banter, Ethan looked from one brother to the other with a smile and a chuckle. He waited for them to finish before he began the topic once more.

"We have no choice but to wait for Mr. Holmes to find a Calwell or a hunter who may be of more assistance to us. Once we speak to an expert, we can figure out a plan concerning this Jack the Ripper. Hopefully we can stop whatever it is the demons are planning before they complete their task." As the group ended their conversation, Marge began making her way to their table while carrying a tray with three plates, She swerved through the tables and the people who were lounging about, and was almost at the hunters' table when all of a sudden the whole room fell into darkness. The three hunters immediately got up from their chairs, their bodies tense as they anticipated an attack in the darkness. Others surrounding them were more confused than afraid as they wondered what had happened. Someone gave a cry of outrage at being touched while another cried as he felt a mug tip over, spilling its contents all over the table.

"Damn it! I can't see a thing!" Dean cursed.

"I don't think that's the real problem here...this isn't normal." Sam said worriedly.

"I have to agree with you there Sam. Even with the blackout we should still be able to see the moon at least. Right now I could hardly see my own nose. Not only that, I can still hear the television. It's not an electrical outage. Only the lights have disappeared." Ethan said.

"Could it be a lunar eclipse?"

"I haven't heard any news of a lunar eclipse at this time of the year."

"Well anyway, the first thing we should do is find a way to see through this darkness. Anyone got a flashlight or a lighter?" Sam asked. Dean rummaged in his pockets and got out his lighter. The other two hunters could hear a flick as Dean tried to create a flame. After several tries, the older Winchester cursed loudly.

"It's not working!"

"Let me try my penlight." Ethan fished out his penlight from his pocket and switched it on. But no matter how many times he turned it on and off, there was no light coming out. All around them they could hear people trying to use the lights from cellphones, flashlights, and even candles. But nothing seemed to work. Some of the bolder customers were trying to leave the bar. There was pushing and shoving, causing the room to erupt in chaos and confusion. The hunters didn't leave despite the increasing movement surrounding them. "Strange...It's like all forms of light had been taken away from us." The Englishman added. A vibrating sensation on the side of his thigh made Ethan jump a feet in the air before he realized that it was his phone. He took it out and unconsciously looked at the screen only to realize that he couldn't see anything. Without any difficulty though, he flipped it open and answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Ethan! What the hell's going on? People are complaining of blackouts throughout the whole bloody city!"

"Will? Wait, what do you mean the whole city?" Ethan asked.

"That's right. We've been getting calls from all over the city about the sudden blackout. It's like a zoo over here and we can't see a damned thing! Now do you know what's going on or not?" The inspector snapped irritably.

"I don't know either. Never thought that someone was capable of plunging the whole city in darkness." Ethan could hear sounds of shouting and crashes over the phone and sighed. "It looks like things aren't going very well on your end either. Will, whatever you do, don't move a muscle. It's too dangerous for you to try to do something in this darkness."

"Easy for you to say. Everyone expects us to do something about this bloody mess!"

"I'll ring you if I find out anything." As soon as Ethan ended his call, Dean's phone rang. He picked it up and spoke to the other caller. From the bits and pieces that they picked up in the conversation, it was clear that the Winchester was speaking to Bobby. No one could see the expression on his face, but both Sam and Ethan felt a sudden dread creep upon them when they heard Dean cry out in surprise.

"You can't be friggin' serious! What do you mean the whole world's suffering from a blackout?"


	7. Chapter 6

**AN: **I know, I know, it's been a while since I last updated. Unfortunately one of my beta readers has said that she doesn't have the time to beta my stories anymore. Therefore I decided to just update and hope that my grammar is good enough for my readers out there. If anyone wants to beta, let me know. XD Anyway, really sorry for the long wait. If I'm motivated enough, Chapter 7 might come along soon enough. As always, read and review and enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Dean spoke with Bobby for a few more minutes before hanging up, promising the older hunter that they would call again once things settled down. After hanging up, he turned his gaze to where Sam and Ethan should be standing. He couldn't see either of them but he could guess where they were from the sound of their voices. The feeling of being blind was starting to make him nauseous. The darkness reminded him much of that moment when he was dead - before he was brought to hell. Neither place was something he wanted to reminisce. He pushed aside his dark thoughts as he focused on the problem at hand.

"Whatever's happening here, it's happening to the rest of the world too. He was watching TV when the lights went out and like us, he couldn't get any single light to turn on." He explained. The three fell silent as they listened to the on-going chaos in the bar. It was fading away as more and more people left, but they could still hear the panic outside.

"So I was right in saying that all forms of light have disappeared or been taken away. But I can't believe that this is happening at an international scale." Ethan mused.

"This better not mean that we failed. Again." Dean said.

"Oh don't sound so pessimistic mate. This might not be the signs of a seal breaking but something else entirely."

"We'll figure it out once the lights come back." Sam said.

"If it's going to come back." Ethan pointed out. Despite the meaning of his words, his tone sounded casual and light. Dean widened his eyes and turned his head sharply at where he guessed Ethan was. He wasn't as calm as the Englishman.

"You think this is going to be permanent? How are we supposed to be able to see anything in this darkness? Even the demons won't be able to do anything when they can't even see their hands or the front of their noses."

"True. But it's also possible that they've found the means to see even in this darkness. Why else would they bring the world in a permanent darkness?"

"I don't know, because they felt like it? How the hell would I know what demons are thinking? And what's with telling me not to be pessimistic when you're doing it?"

"I'm not being pessimistic. I'm being realistic."

"Guys, that's enough arguing. We need to figure out what to do next. We can't just stand here the rest of the night." Sam told them. Ethan shrugged even though no one could see it.

"Well, I'm at a loss. I don't even know what caused this darkness in the first place." Before any of them could say another word, the lights came on as suddenly as they disappeared. Everyone blinked in surprise as their eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness. People who were on ground picked themselves up and the rest of the patrons who were still inside the bar quickly left in a mess of upturned chairs and tables and scattered pieces of glass and plates of ruined meals. Eventually only the three hunters and Marge remained. Ethan turned his gaze to the brunette bartender who was standing up from the ground and brushing the dirt off her clothes in distaste.

"Are you all right, Marge?"

"I'm fine. But someone's going to answer for all of this! My bar's a mess!"

"Not to worry my dear. I will pay for all the damages. Now if you'll excuse us..." Ethan gestured for Sam and Dean to follow him. The two brothers moved across the mess and went out of the bar together with Ethan. Upon seeing that his car was still in tact, the Englishman gave a sigh of relief. For the first few minutes Ethan drove all throughout the city and all three hunters inspected the mess left behind by the darkness. There were plenty of car crashes on the road. There were cars against other cars, cars against buildings or other forms of structure and, unfortunately, cars against passers-by. In some restaurants and stores, people were cleaning up the mess left by their customers. People were returning the furniture to their original positions, mops were used to cleaned up the spills and other objects that were found scattered all over the ground were being picked up. The rest were simply recovering from the shock of having the lights go out.

"It looks like apart from the common problems, nothing eventful happened during that time of darkness." Ethan commented.

"But what was that all about?" Sam asked.

"Can't you figure out what's going on Ethan? Maybe your buddy knows something about all this." Dean said. Ethan grimaced at the term but said nothing about it. He knew who Dean was referring to.

"Unfortunately, I don't have the means to contact Lucas. He doesn't like using modern technology that much. He's usually the one who comes to me when he has something to say." Ethan replied.

"So do you do if you have something you need to tell him right away?" Sam asked.

"Well it hasn't come to that, so I haven't really thought of it...Now that you've mentioned it, I never did have the opportunity to seek his help. It was always him who comes to me with some news." Ethan said with a sheepish chuckle. Sam and Dean stared at each other, unsure how to react to Ethan's answer. Neither of the brothers got the chance to do so, as Ethan caught sight of something in front of him and immediately stepped on the brake. With a screech, the car skidded to a halt, forcing everyone to suddenly fall forward in their seats.

"What the hell Ethan? Why did you suddenly stop?" Dean cried angrily as he pushed himself off the back of the passenger's chair. Sam got up as well and was about to ask Ethan the same question - only in a friendlier tone - when he stared ahead and took a sharp intake of breath. Just across the street was the New Scotland Yard building. And right by the front door was the bloody, mutilated body of a woman, tacked to the wall by a short dagger. Ethan caught Sam's stunned gaze and nodded to him.

"That, as you can see, is why I stopped. It's the body of the most recent woman who was taken by our so-called Jack the Ripper. Looks like our killer used this opportunity to throw the body away without being seen by anyone." Ethan said. Dean took notice of the body as well and narrowed his eyes.

"Damn it..." He cursed. Ethan drove once more and parked his car a block away. All three hunters got out of the car and rushed for the building. No one took notice of the body yet, since everyone was too busy cleaning up and trying to make sense of what happened, but the three knew that someone was going to see it and make a scene eventually. The Winchesters were the first ones to reach it, but before they could bring the corpse down, Ethan held up a hand to them.

"Wait! Don't touch it! Scotland Yard won't be so grateful if you disturbed the crime scene." Ethan said. Dean and Sam stared at him incredulously.

"You want us to leave this body hanging here like a house decoration for some cops? Have you completely lost your mind?" Dean cried.

"I know how you feel chaps, and I would like for you to bring it down as quickly as possible, but we're on Scotland Yard territory and I'm afraid that we have to abide by their rules else we get sent to prison for obstruction of justice. Stay there and prevent anyone else from noticing it. I will notify the inspectors inside." Dean grumbled but did as Ethan asked while the Englishman hurried inside.

* * *

Since it happened right at the front steps of Scotland Yard, the crime scene was instantly crowded with inspectors working to gather clues and evidences. Ethan, Sam and Dean were sent inside the station to wait. Will came walking towards them a few minutes later looking very weary and drained. He was rubbing his face with one hand while carrying a stack of papers with his other. The English hunter smiled at the inspector when he stopped to stand before the group.

"Well hello there dear William! Why, you look utterly spent! Maybe you should lie down on this couch and rest your heavy-lidded eyes for a while." Will narrowed his eyes at Ethan as he pushed the stack of papers into the other's hands roughly.

"That's the copy of the files you wanted. Make sure you're not seen with them. If you get caught, I'll deny having anything to do with it and arrest you for stealing information from Scotland Yard myself." While Ethan browsed through some of the pages, Will crashed onto one of the chairs with a heavy sigh. "Things are very hectic in this station, and this corpse isn't helping me at all. Tell me everything that happened."

"Unfortunately, we can't tell you much. I was driving along with Sam and Dean when we passed by this street and saw the corpse with a knife stabbed through it. We don't know who placed it there or when, but it was obviously somewhere within the time when everything became dark. It would certainly prevent anyone from seeing what he was doing."

"And what about this blackout? Do you know what caused it?"

"No, we don't. We only know that it's happening all over the world and it wasn't an electrical outage. All other electronic devices were still working the whole time it happened. I'm sorry that we can't be of much help, but we're still trying to find out what's going on ourselves." Will gave a defeated sigh as he nodded.

"I was afraid you were going to say that. Well I can't keep you lot here if you don't want to. You can go. I've gathered all that I can from what you know." Sam and Dean were about to get up from their seats but Ethan remained seated as he looked at the Inspector.

"You may have gathered everything from us, but we haven't gathered everything from your end. What of the package that the Strand received from Jack the Ripper? What have you found so far?" The Winchester brothers sat back on their seats while Will frowned.

"The letter was a challenge raised by this so-called Jack the Ripper. He claims that no one could stop him from coming back. And the package that was sent along with the letter contained an organ from our fourth victim. The DNA samples match so we're confident that this came from the actual killer - or someone who had access to the killer's possessions."

"Who sent the package?"

"No one knows who did it. One of the journalists just found it in the back door as he was going out. The box didn't have any mark on it and there were no fingerprints." Ethan nodded as he absorbed all that Will had told him.

"I'd like to have a look at the autopsy report on this new victim when you have it."

"I think I can manage that. I'll bring it to your place when I have the chance."

"Thanks." All three hunters stood up but Ethan grabbed Will's shoulder and pulled him back before he could leave. "Will, I'm not entirely sure of this, but don't get too careless out there. This could turn out bigger than what you and your men normally handle. Keep them from doing anything too drastic."

"I'll do my best...but not many believe in the supernatural like I do. Good luck mates. You're going to need it at this rate." He nodded to Sam and Dean before addressing the call of one of the inspectors who was looking for him. As he walked away, Ethan turned his gaze to the Winchesters and sighed, tucking the stack of papers under his arm.

"Well chaps, it's time for us to return home." The hunters returned to Ethan's car, which had been parked right where they left it. While Ethan drove them home, he pulled out his notebook from his pocket and tossed it behind him. Dean was the one who caught the notebook.

"Can you check if there are any news from our friends in the past?" Ethan said. Dean flipped through the pages and after a few seconds he reached the last page they wrote down on. Minutes passed, especially since it took Dean a while to read with the lights barely bright enough and with all the moving about the car did, but he eventually finished reading the new message and looked up from it with a frown.

"We've got news alright. But it's not good. He can't find anyone who can help us. The other Calwells don't have any experience in hunting and it looked like Calwell worked solo. They don't know where or how to look for any hunter in time for us to get to Jack the Ripper. Now what?"

"Looks like we've got no choice but to ask Mr. Holmes for his assistance." Ethan replied.

"What? Are you serious?"

"Of course. He is a great detective after all. Tracking down a killer wouldn't be too difficult for him, especially if we give him all the details he needs to catch the criminal. All we need to do is teach him how to fight against demons in the off-chance that they appear."

"And once he finds Jack the Ripper? What then? We're not supposed to stop him from killing his next victim. It'll be changing history." Sam said. Ethan frowned while evading cars on the road.

"Yes, it would..." He didn't say anything else after that. Ethan didn't know how to proceed with his suggestion as well. There were too many complications to worry about and too many questions that are still plaguing his mind. He drove the car while thinking to himself, trying to figure out a solution to all their problems. The Winchesters sat behind on the back seat, deep in their own thoughts as well.


	8. Chapter 7

**AN: **Hey guys, really sorry about how long it's been since I last updated. I've been suffering from a really long writer's block (I wasn't sure how I wanted the story to continue) and real life has kept me busy too. But now I've given myself a little prod, and finally have this chapter up! I hope those who have followed the story so far don't give up on me. Thanks to everyone who's still reading **The Game is Afoot**. I'll try to get Chapter 8 up as quickly as I could.

* * *

**Chapter 7**

No one spoke a word even as they arrived back at Ethan's apartment; each one was deep in his own thoughts. As the three hunters got out of the car, a man stepped out from the shadows by the front door. They were tense at first - Dean had already reached for his gun - but once they recognized the newcomer they relaxed a little bit.

"I'm glad to see you actually listened to me this time and waited outside." Ethan commented. The red haired demon grinned as he held out his arms to either side of him.

"What can I say? I'm one heck of a bloke. Now, how about we go inside and have a nice chat over a cup of coffee?" Ethan frowned at the demon but he felt too tired to chastise him for serving as a host to a house that wasn't his. The three hunters went up the steps and entered the apartment with Lucas in the lead. Half-way inside the building Ethan stepped past the demon, casting a reproachful glare at him, before leading the group to the sitting room. He turned on the lights before sitting down on the couches along with the rest. Three pairs of eyes focused on Lucas while he settled in.

"So, Ethan, about that coffee..." Ethan closed his eyes and took a deep, slow, breath before he smiled stiffly at Lucas.

"Of course, how could I have forgotten?" He got up from his seat and left the room for a few minutes before coming back with four cups on a tray. He handed a cup to each of the men before getting the last one for himself and setting the tray down on the coffee table. Dean and Sam drank theirs and made appreciative sounds, enjoying the taste of high-quality coffee, which was very different from what they were used to. Lucas took a sip from his and immediately made a face.

"This coffee's cold."

"Is it now?" Ethan drank from his own cup, hiding the smug smile on his face. Dean was less discreet. His chuckles sounded loud in the silence of the room. "So, what news do you have for us?" The demon glared at him but eventually acknowledged defeat as he set his cup down and looked at everyone in the room.

"It took me a while, but I knew that you lads were in a great hurry and so I took my research seriously." He began.

"You mean you haven't been taking this case seriously before?" Ethan asked with one eyebrow raised. The only reply he got from Lucas was a shrug and a lazy grin.

"Well what did you find? Out with it!" Dean snapped impatiently. Lucas showed no signs of rushing as he cleared his throat and closed his eyes in deep thought. Dean wanted to lunge forward to strangle the demon, but as if sensing the killing intent, Lucas opened his eyes and spoke.

"From the few pieces of information that I could gather, these demons are looking for a man who goes by the name of James Maybrick. He was a cotton merchant in Liverpool and he made a deal with one of the demons during his time; sold his soul in exchange for a better life. Now the demons have raised his spirit from the underworld and want him to perform his end of the deal. But it seems James Maybrick wasn't happy with how things were and ran away from the demons."

"But what about Jack the Ripper?" Dean asked. "Are you saying that this Maybrick person is the same dude?" Lucas furrowed his brows in confusion as he looked at Dean.

"Jack the Ripper? Well no one ever mentioned the name so I'm not sure."

"James Maybrick was one of the names that came up when I was searching for Jack the Ripper's identity. The odds are that he's the same person." Sam explained. "But what's this deal they're talking about? What do they want with him?" Lucas shrugged in reply.

"I haven't got a clue."

"Do you at least know why he isn't with the demons now? Or why he's hiding from them?" Lucas shook his head with a frown.

"So that's it? That's all you've got for us?" The red haired demon narrowed his eyes at Dean, who looked just as irritated.

"Getting such important information isn't as easy as you might think. I can't go around asking questions without bringing attention to myself. I'll get killed for sure."

"What, you can't handle a bit of pressure from your fellow bitches? Some demon you are." A dangerous light shone in Lucas' eyes. He stood up from the couch and stared down at the older Winchester. Dean wasn't one to back down as he got up from the couch to stare back at the demon. Sam's hands gripped the arm rest so tightly that his knuckles were turning white with tension. He seemed ready to leap from his own seat to give support to his brother.

"Look lad, I don't take kindly to being insulted by your kind. I worked hard to get the information I have. You should be thankful that I'm risking my own life to get this information for you." Lucas went on, gazing first at Dean then at Sam.

"I would, if you gave us something actually worth thanking." Dean retorted. Lucas' hand shot out in front of him before any of the hunters could react, sending Dean flying backwards. The older Winchester crashed against the wall with a loud thud and was pinned there by an invisible force. Sam moved to tackle the demon but Lucas saw the other's movement and sent another invisible force to push him back. Sam found himself in a similar predicament to that of his brother, giving a grunt of pain as he collided against the wall as well. For a full second everything was silent. It seemed that everyone was waiting for something to happen. The air was thick with tension and the silence was deafening. Eventually the two hunters and the demon realized that all throughout their argument, the Englishman never spoke a word. All eyes turned to Ethan, who was still reading the case files that Will gave to him.

"Well at least one of us is having fun with all this crap going on." Dean said, his voice dripping heavily with sarcasm. Lucas seemed to share the same thoughts as the older Winchester, narrowing his eyes at Ethan.

"How long do you plan to sit there and do nothing? If you're planning to attack me then attack me! I'll take you on just as well as I have these two." Ethan set the files down beside the tray he brought in earlier then looked straight at Lucas.

"I'm well aware of your capabilities Lucas, and I appreciate all your efforts, even if no one else does. You ought to know me well enough to know that without being reminded of it. Now put the boys down and we'll proceed as we always have before." The fire in Lucas' eyes died down until it was just a flicker. After a few more seconds he dropped his arms, releasing his hold on the Winchesters, before sitting back on the couch and grumbling to himself like a child who was scolded by his mother. Ethan sighed as he turned his attention to all three in general.

"I won't apologize for any of your actions, since I think you all deserved it for being so short-tempered. Now, it looks like I have to remind you all why you chose to put your trust in me." Steepling his fingers and crossing one leg over the other, he turned his gaze to Lucas without waiting for Sam or Dean to react.

"I have a few questions I want to ask. When did these demons start looking for Maybrick? Don't worry, they're not going to attack you unless they want to be kicked out of my home." The red haired demon had been glancing warily at the Winchesters before looking at Ethan, relaxing a little at the assurance.

"Started last week."

"Around Wednesday maybe?" Lucas took a moment to consider Ethan's question then shrugged.

"Can't be too certain. But it might be."

"What do you know of this international black-out?"

"Nothing. I was just as surprised by the sudden black-out as any other human or demon." Ethan's head snapped in attention as he stared at Lucas in surprise.

"None of the demons were expecting the black-out?"

"None that I know of. But they weren't acting too worried about it. Some have even mentioned that it might be one of the seals being broken." The Englishman's eyes flashed with excitement.

"That's very interesting."

"What is? Did you figure something out?" Sam asked. Silence. The Winchesters looked at each other before turning their gaze to Lucas, who looked just as confused as they were. None of them knew what was running through the Englishman's mind at that moment. They could only wait in silence until Ethan suddenly grinned and clapped his hands together, causing the others to jump in surprise.

"Well then! It looks like things are slowly coming together. Lucas, I'm going to have to ask you to do something even more risky and dangerous for me. You don't have to do it, but it will be immensely helpful if you can get me what I want. Will you do it?" Lucas crossed his arms and spoke while narrowing his eyes at Dean.

"I'm happy to help someone who appreciates my efforts and understands how difficult my work is." The older Winchester rolled his eyes while Ethan smiled.

"Good. I need you to find out how the demons summoned James Maybrick's spirit. I want to know where it took place, what they used, all the information you can get on the ritual - oh and before I forget." Lucas stood up from his chair and was about to leave when Ethan tossed an object at him. The red haired demon caught it easily then frowned when he looked at the cell phone in his hands.

"You know I don't like using these things..."

"It would be better for everyone involved if you had one. And don't even think of throwing it away. I'll just get you a new one. Think of all the poor, wasted cell phones that you'll keep throwing away if you don't accept this one." Lucas grumbled but he pocketed the cell phone all the same. As Lucas walked out of the sitting room, Ethan picked up the files from the coffee table and stood up. The Winchesters followed Ethan's lead as they looked at him in confusion.

"Where the hell are you going?" Dean asked.

"I'm going to do some research on Maybrick. Find out more about our man and the places he frequents if possible. I'll also need to share everything we know with Mr. Holmes and see if he could find out where Maybrick's hiding places within London are."

"So what are we supposed to do?"

"Feel free to do anything you want. I'll let you know when I find something of importance." Dean strode forward to step in front of the Englishman, blocking his path to the hallway, and glared at him.

"You can't be serious. You can't boss us around like you own the freaking place and expect us to do whatever you say. Even if this isn't America I can still hunt down those bastards as good as you or any hunter here can. If you don't start telling us everything you know, I will walk my ass out of here and stop the breaking of the seal myself!" Sam held Dean's shoulder and gently but firmly pulled him back while stepping up himself.

"What Dean is trying to say is, we're professional hunters too. We appreciate your help, but you don't have to keep pushing us away and keep everything all to yourself. We can help out." He explained. Ethan looked from one brother to the other and looked down at the ground while scratching the back of his head. For a few seconds he said nothing, trying to gather his thoughts as he deliberated on the right thing to say.

"Ah...well..." He cleared his throat once and looked up once more with an apologetic smile. "Both of you deserve to know everything of course. I'm sorry if I was being..."

"Selfish? Idiotic? An ass? A douche- ow!" Sam jabbed Dean's side with his elbow, cutting him off from whatever he was going to say next, before looking at Ethan and shaking his head.

"We want to know what you have in mind about everything that's happening now."

"Here's what I could make of it so far," Ethan returned to his seat, gesturing the other two to do the same. "First, I couldn't help but notice something strange with the victims. Each victim had an organ taken out of their body, but none of the organs were the same. Except for the second to the last victim. The case files mentioned that the organ taken from this particular victim was the same as the first. The date when that victim was reported missing was rather close to the estimated date when the demons started looking for James Maybrick. Knowing this, I think that there's some meaning to the organs he takes from his victims."

"The second thing to consider is this blackout. If we are to assume that Jack the Ripper is James Maybrick - which is a very big possibility and one I don't think we need to question any further - then it means that he was involved with the blackout. Finding the corpse in front of Scotland Yard right after the blackout is too coincidental. But if this blackout was the breaking of a seal like the demons believe it to be, then it meant that James Maybrick knew of the existence of this particular seal. James Maybrick's spirit might have been raised by the demons so he could be used to break the seal, in reference to the deal between the demons and James that Lucas mentioned."

"So he was working with the demons in the beginning...and left them." Sam concluded, picking up on Ethan's train of thought. "But why would he suddenly decide to go solo?"

"There could be many different reasons for that. Maybe there was a disagreement between them. Maybe James Maybrick didn't like the demon's method. Or maybe the deal they made all those centuries ago had been broken. The important thing is, we now know that our spirit used to, but is not working for the demons anymore. So what of his purpose then? It would be understandable if he continued mutilating bodies at random, being who he is, but his methods seem methodological. And he's involved with the blackout, which may or may not be connected to breaking a seal. If it is, I don't think that the demons would pursue him with so much effort just because he broke the seal on his own."

"Logically, the demons shouldn't try to stop him since he's still breaking the seal - which is their main goal. So this relentless search, plus the public challenge that James Maybrick sent to the Strand, doesn't make sense. There must be something about this seal that we're missing."

"The seal is not broken." All three heads swivelled around at the sound of a new voice. They saw the dark shape of a person standing inside an adjoining room, where the lights were still turned off. Dean and Sam instantly got out of their seats and took out their guns, prepared to fight back and defend themselves, while Ethan remained sitting on the couch. For a brief moment none of them moved or spoke. It was the figure in the shadows that made the first move as he took a step forward, revealing himself in the light of the room. At the sight of the mysterious stranger Ethan raised both of his eyebrows in surprise.

"Now that's something you don't see everyday."


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"What the h - Cas?" Dean stared incredulously at the man standing before them. The angel's khaki overcoat was splattered all over with blood; some parts already dried up to a shade of brown. More blood dripped down from the sword in his right hand, creating a small puddle on the ground. But what took everyone by surprise and alarm was the severed hand clasped firmly to the angel's leg.

"Don't worry. None of it's mine." Castiel told them reassuringly, mistaking their reactions for concern over him.

"Like that's going to make us feel better..." Dean muttered as he glanced down at the hand on Castiel's leg warily. His hand hovered near the handle of his gun as he kept an eye on the object. Unlike Dean, Sam relaxed when he realized there was no threat of danger, though he kept glancing at the blood and the hand as well.

"What the hell were you doing before you came here?" He asked.

"Working." Sam waited for Castiel to expound but the angel immediately moved on to other topics. "This is not the time for idle chatter. Fortunately the seal is not broken yet but if you don't take action soon, it will be." Ethan remained seated as he looked from one Winchester to the other, observing their reactions during this short exchange. When he was sure that there was no need to be hostile, he glanced at the angel with a grimace.

"As relieved as I am to find out that you're an ally of the Winchesters, could you please clean yourself up before we do anything else? You're staining my floor with blood and you have a hand still attached to your leg. It's very...distracting." He said. Castiel looked down at the body part and casually detached it from his leg. Then he tossed the hand aside, not even bothering to see where it landed. When he saw Ethan press both hands to his face with a suppressed groan, he tilted head in confusion.

"I don't understand. Are you uncomfortable with the sight of blood?"

"Yeah, man up Ethan. It's just blood and a hand." Dean agreed with a snort of laughter. The Englishman glared back.

"Forgive me for being touchy. But need I remind you that I have friends in Scotland Yard who will be curious as to why there's blood from a dead man on my floor and a dismembered body part by the door to my bedroom."

"You can clean the blood up and toss the hand away. Not like they're planning to visit anytime soon." Dean pointed out. "Can we please get back to talking about the important stuff?" Ethan bit back a sigh as he grumbled about _cleaning_ and _stains_ and turned his gaze to Castiel.

"It's not like I have a choice in the matter. So who is this? I know that he's not a demon since he went through the Devil Trap I placed in my room so easily."

"He's an angel. Ethan, this is Castiel. Cas, this is - " Castiel interrupted Sam's introductions as he looked at the Englishman.

"I know who he is. Bobby told me that I'd find the two of you together with him and gave me this address. Even before then his family name is not unknown to us." He frowned at the man in question, who leaned back against the couch and regarded the angel's expression with both eyebrows raised in surprise and curiosity. "They have been the topic of several discussions in Heaven. Many question the decision to leave the Book of Ages in their hands. They're human; imperfect and easily corrupted by greed and pride. A single passage written to someone in the past could change history and destroy the flow of time. By rights, I should take it from you before one from your bloodline makes a mistake." Instead of being worried or hostile by what Castiel said, Ethan smiled in amusement.

"This thing has a name? I suppose it's a lot better than calling it 'The Notebook'." He took out the notebook from the pocket of his jacket, turning it over in his hand, before looking back at Castiel and holding it out to him. "I have no qualms about giving this notebook to you, if that's what you truly want. But I know for a fact that this notebook will be in Calwell hands many years later. If Heaven truly disapproves our possession of this notebook, it would have been out of our hands long before today. I think the reason none of you have come to take it from us yet is because something important will happen in the future, and this notebook will be the key to solving it. Am I right?" Castiel didn't rise to the challenge in Ethan's voice but he continued to frown. Up to this point, Dean followed their discussion with as much patience as he could muster before he decided he had enough of waiting.

"While you two keep going on about that stupid notebook, there's some bastard out there slicing more people and stealing more organs. So are you going to start explaining yourself or what?" Dean was looking expectantly at Castiel as he spoke. Ethan frowned at the older Winchester as he lowered his hand and returned the notebook in the pocket of his jacket, while the angel nodded in agreement.

"Very well. The blackout that occurred didn't signify the breaking of the seal. It signified the beginning of it." The three hunters stared at each other before looking back at Castiel. It was Sam who voiced out what was in their thoughts.

"What do you mean by that?"

"The seal hasn't been broken yet. But if left unattended to, the demons will eventually break it. It's a ritual of sorts and it takes six days to complete. That's plenty of time for you to stop them from breaking it."

"But why six days?" Dean asked.

"The demons seem to find it fitting to re-enact the first two chapters of Genesis as a symbolic act of rebellion against God and his own creation of human beings." Castiel answered.

"Whoah, whoah, whoah! Hold up! The seal being broken is the story of creation from the book of Genesis? Are you _serious_?" The older Winchester's eyes were wide in surprise.

"When have I not been serious to you?" Castiel asked him. Dean stared at the angel for several seconds before rolling his eyes and shaking his head. He wasn't in the mood to try and make the angel understand. Glancing over at his companions, he saw both Sam and Ethan deep in thought; their minds turning over everything that the angel was telling them.

"That could explain why Jack the Ripper's taking organs from his victims. But there's something I don't get." Sam began. "Why does he have to get different organs from different people instead of just getting some random human body and using that as a whole?"

"Maybe it has to be as close to creating man as he could get." Ethan replied. "What I really want to know is if the body requires a human soul in it or if having a body is enough to bring a body to life for the sixth day." This question he directed to the angel, who shook his head.

"I've told you everything I know about the seal."

"Well, this isn't quite as bad as it sounds now, is it?" The Englishman mused, smiling at the brothers. "We know what's happening and what we're up against. And with Castiel's assistance, I'm sure that we'll stop the seal from breaking sooner than if it were only the three of us."

"As soon as our discussion is over I must leave. I have other things to take care of." The angel told them, without even a hint of apology in his tone. All three hunters turned their gazes to Castiel in surprise.

"You're leaving us? But you only just got here! You've been as useful as Ethan's stupid notebook so far." Dean said angrily. Ethan had given up frowning at all the insults Dean kept throwing out, focusing his attention at Castiel instead.

"I'm needed elsewhere. I only came here to check on your progress. And to lead you to the right path if you've gone astray." The angel explained.

"Well gee Cas, thanks a lot for the help! I don't know what we would have done without your _Heavenly_ guidance." Dean didn't see Ethan stand up and move close to him. Without warning he felt a hand on his shoulder and looked over at the Englishman who shook his head.

"That's enough Dean. He's already done much by bringing us that piece of information. We might still be wandering around in circles if he didn't tell us what the seal was or the fact that it's not broken yet." Dean narrowed his eyes but Ethan ignored the other's glare as he turned his gaze back to Castiel. "Thank you. We'll be fine on our own." Castiel nodded.

"I know you will be." And with those last words Castiel vanished. Ethan blinked and looked around him in surprise before turning to Dean and Sam when he was sure that the angel was gone.

"Are all angels...?"

"Believe me, he's a great big bowl of sunshine compared to the others we've met." The Englishman grimaced at Dean's description of the angelic beings.

"Then I'm glad I don't have to meet any of them on a regular basis; and I feel sorry that _you_ do." Just as he finished speaking, something began to ring loudly. Ethan took his cellphone out of his pocket and answered the call after seeing the name on the screen.

"Everything okay, Will?"

"How badly do you need the autopsy report of the latest victim?" Ethan noted the weariness and grim tone in his friend's voice and frowned, gripping the phone tighter in his hand.

"Did something happen? It sounds like things have gotten worse for you."

"I don't have the time to chat with you, Ethan. Just answer the damn question!" Will snapped. Although the Inspector has thrown his temper at Ethan from time to time, the blond haired hunter had never heard him this angry. Ethan suspected that something bad had happened to make Will very stressed out.

"I only need to know one thing about her. The organ that was taken from her...was it her lungs?"

"That was one of the organs he took. The kidneys and the stomach were taken too." Ethan's face paled as the implications of Will's answer sent him reeling. Since neither Dean nor Sam could hear their conversation, they only saw the expression on Ethan's face and grew worried. The Englishman didn't answer immediately and was trying to run his mind through every single information he had of the events when Will's angry voice cut into his thoughts. "Ethan! I don't have time for this damn it, are you still there?"

"Oh, right! Yes, I'm still here. Sorry...is that all he took?"

"That was it. Please tell me, you have good news for me."

"Things are starting to come together. I now have a motive and an idea on how to stop him." Ethan wanted to stop there, but something told him to prod at Will and see what got the Inspector so agitated. "So what exactly happened after we left?" He asked. For a moment he heard nothing from the other man. He waited patiently, keeping his ear to the phone, until he heard Will give a heavy sigh.

"Hammerson's gone. I've been trying to contact him but he hasn't answered and no one knows where he's gone off to. With all that's happened, the last thing I need is my men going missing."

"Where was the last place you spoke to him?" Ethan could already see the other man bristling at his question and spoke again before Will could protest. "I understand that this is Scotland Yard's business and that, as a civilian, I have no right to be involved. But surely you can see that these occurrences are not coincidental. If the blackout and the missing person are related then telling me the details will help us settle this crisis quicker. Please William. I only want to help." There was silence on the other end of the line followed by a soft sigh that Ethan almost didn't catch. But he knew Will had given in as he spoke.

"He was one of the first men to investigate the crime scene, but he never reported back. The last person who saw him said that he was looking for evidences in the back alleys and didn't mention a word that he was going to leave. And he's not the type of person who disappears for no reason."

"But there could be plenty of reasons why he's missing and hasn't answered. Maybe a fight broke out, or he's chasing some criminal or trying to restore some sort of order to the mess that appeared after the blackout." Ethan suggested.

"Maybe..." The tone in Will's voice sounded unconvinced. Ethan himself couldn't believe his own reasoning either. They have been working together in the business long enough to always expect the worst. "Call me if you learn anything else." Ethan hung up and looked at the brothers with a grim face.

"The victim's lungs, kidneys and stomach were taken from the latest victim. It's a big change from his previous modus operandi." He told them. "He's either trying to speed up the ritual, or he's preparing the body parts in advance in order to go into hiding." After hearing this, Dean began pacing in agitation. He looked like he was going to punch someone or something very soon.

"How the hell are we supposed to find this guy when we don't even know where he is or who his next target's going to be? Please tell me one of you college geeks have something!" He said, stopping to turn his head from one person to the other.

"Ethan, can't we use the notebook to ask the Ethan in the future what's going to happen?" Sam asked. The Englishman shook his head.

"This book only allows you to access the past, not the future. And even if we could ask, I wouldn't give you the answers you need. Every Calwell knows that there should be no attempts to change the fate of others. You heard Castiel yourself. It could destroy the flow of time. But," One finger was raised in the air to stop either of the brothers from speaking. "I could still ask Mr. Holmes to find Jack the Ripper's old hideaway. Since it was effective enough to keep him from being caught during his own time, it would make sense for him to use it again."

"And while we have Mr. Holmes investigate from his own time, we're going to do the same in our own. Will mentioned that one of his men went missing after we left Scotland Yard. I'm worried that he's become Jack the Ripper's next victim. We're going to have to go back and investigate. See if we can find any clues that would lead us to Jack the Ripper. Dean, could you drive us there while I write on the notebook? I'd like to inform Mr. Holmes of our plans as soon as possible." As he spoke, Ethan tossed his car keys to Dean. Then as an afterthought, he added. "You do remember the way to Scotland Yard don't you?" The older Winchester had a grin on his face as he caught the keys with one hand.

"Piece of cake."


	10. Chapter 9

**AN:** We've been in 2012 for quite a while now haven't we? I think it's about time we see what Sherlock and Watson are up to in the 19th century...

Thank you to everyone who's still following. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.

* * *

**Chapter ****9**

As landlady to the greatest consulting detective in London, Mrs. Hudson has had her share of eccentricities. One had to have patience the size of the universe if they were to house the most infuriating, most troublesome lodger ever. Throughout the years of living in 221B Baker Street, Sherlock Holmes has destroyed several furniture in the house, brought numerous guests of questionable morale, and indulged in the strangest practices even Mrs. Hudson wouldn't dare to think about. She took everything in stride, knowing that deep inside the detective there was a good man.

This time though, she felt her patience slipping. Good man or not, she was very tempted to throw the detective out into the streets. There was only so much that a religious, devoted woman like her could handle. While making lunch she heard the sound of the doorbell and rushed to open it. She saw Doctor Watson standing outside and hugged him tightly as she heaved a sigh of relief.

"Thank goodness you've arrived Doctor! You must put a stop to him this instant. He's gone mad!" She cried. Watson blinked as he looked at Mrs. Hudson.

"Yes, your letter stated that Holmes was behaving...more eccentric than usual. What on earth has he been doing?" He asked.

"Well Doctor, he bought several sacks of salt but he refused to explain why. He poured the salt on the windowsill and the door and forbids me to clean it or touch it. He brought home with him several containers of water and made me drink a glass of it. Not only that, he sprinkles the water at passers-by from his window. He's covered the walls and the floor with strange marks and symbols he wrote in blood. Blood! I can't imagine where he found such a large amount of blood. And what's worse, every night you could hear him shouting in a strange, foreign language. It's as if he's calling out to the devil! I'm very frightened Doctor Watson. Something must be terribly wrong with Mr. Holmes." Watson sighed as he placed a comforting hand on Mrs. Hudson's shoulder.

"I'll speak to him and see what I can do." The landlady visibly relaxed as she smiled at him.

"God bless you Doctor. I don't know what I would have done if you weren't here." Watson smiled reassuringly at her before he moved past her and up the seventeen steps to his old rooms. He opened the door and looked down to find that there was no salt on the ground, much to his relief, though he looked up to find the walls covered in the strange symbols and salt scattered all over the windowsill, as Mrs. Hudson mentioned. His experience and knowledge as a Doctor confirmed to him that the symbols were indeed written in blood. From the dried, brownish color he estimated that Holmes had written on the wall at least a day after he had last visited the detective. He didn't dare step in at first, and instead peered around the edge of the door in search of his old flatmate.

"Holmes? Where are you?" He called out.

"Watson? Is that you? Come in, come in! As always, your timing is impeccable." Holmes appeared in sight, holding a revolver in his hand. Despite his invitation Watson was still hesitant to go in. He looked around, wondering if something was going to pop out to scare him. Eventually, he decided that he might as well give in and slowly stepped into the room. When he made his way to the couch and sat there, Holmes frowned. He left the Doctor for a few minutes then came back with a glass of water and the revolver still in hand. He handed the glass to Watson before he sat down and stared at the Doctor intently. Watson stared back, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"Is...something wrong Holmes?"

"No, not at all. I hope you'll forgive me for the state of the room. It's necessary for our safety." Watson didn't know what to say as he looked around. The room was messier than usual, he noted. He could see a pile of new books gathered on the floor beside Holmes' desk, as well as several pieces of paper scattered all over the room. A piece of paper lay close to where Watson was sitting and he saw that Bible verses were written on them. He immediately saw the connection between the paper and the books and, looking back at the pile, saw that they were indeed Bible books. He was about to ask how the Bible was necessary for their safety when he looked back at the detective and saw that his friend had closed the distance between them and was staring down at Watson like a predator.

"Holmes?"

"_Christo._" He whispered fiercely. For a few seconds the two stared at each other in silence.

"Holmes, are you sure that you're all right?" Watson asked worriedly. Holmes always had a purpose in his methods and his behavior. There was never a time when Holmes did something strange just because he felt like it. The Doctor wanted to believe that this was one of those times when Holmes had a plan, and that this was not an effect of whatever poisonous drug he was in the habit of taking nowadays. After several more minutes of staring, Holmes sighed in disappointment and settled back in his own seat.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine." He looked up, at the glass in Watson's hand, and gestured to it. "Please, have a drink." Watson was holding the glass away from himself as if it would suddenly explode or attack him. It looked normal enough, but Watson remembered the times when Holmes was busy with his chemistry set and remembered the state of the small animals Holmes acquired - subjects in his experiments - when they ingested or came in contact with some kind of solution. The burnt mark on the wall was also a clear reminder of how dangerous Holmes' experiments could be. Holmes would never harm Watson intentionally of course, but experiments like these were unstable and despite being sure of what he was doing, anything could happen. Watson was very reluctant to drink what was in the glass.

"What is it?" He asked as he looked down at the glass warily.

"It's Holy Water. To confirm that you are indeed yourself and not possessed by a demon. Though the Devil's Trap and my utterance of _Christo_ have proven your identity, I want to be absolutely certain. Oh don't look so frightened Watson. It's merely blessed water, nothing more." Watson swirled the water in the glass before sighing and drinking everything with one gulp, half-expecting to taste something odd or feel some strange after-effect. Holmes smiled as Watson set the glass down on the small coffee table beside the couch and clapped his hands cheerfully.

"Excellent! Now that I have gained familiarity and experience with this method of detection, I can finally begin my next task."

"And that is?" Watson saw Holmes' eyes brighten and twinkle in excitement.

"Why, hunting of course!"

"Hunting?" Watson repeated, brows furrowed and his head tilted to one side in confusion. Holmes chuckled at the expression on his best friend's face as he continued tinkering with his revolver.

"By hunting, I mean the term used in reference to purging demons and other supernatural creatures of the night. I was surprised to discover how many of these monsters and demons are actually living amongst us. I have, in fact, successfully exorcised a demon. Mr. Ethan Calwell - he is, I have discovered, a descendant of Randall Calwell and is writing to us from more than a hundred years in the future - has given me quite detailed instructions in detecting demons and discovering omens and symbols, as well as some lessons in exorcism and factual myths regarding other monsters."

"I assume then that the symbols on the wall, the salt on the windows and the...things you did upon seeing me today is part of what you've been taught. But what of the strange noises at night that Mrs. Hudson has been hearing of late?"

"I was practicing my dictation of Latin verses of the Bible. Every word must be said perfectly and in the correct intonation else the exorcism fails and the demon is given the opportunity to escape. The first exorcism I performed failed when I mispronounced a phrase. You can't imagine my embarrassment and surprise when the demon suddenly laughed at me, insulted my Latin, and almost escaped the trap I placed him under." Watson frowned at Holmes' lighthearted recount of what was probably a frightening tale. To be honest, Watson was slightly curious about exorcisms and he was disappointed that Holmes didn't include him when it happened. He didn't know whether he should be angry at the detective because he attempted to hunt demons or because he attempted to hunt demons without him.

"Holmes, with all due respect, I am well aware of your strength and capability in a fight. I greatly respect and admire you for it - but this," Watson gestured to the windows and the wall. " - is not in your line of work. Mr. Calwell can't possibly expect you to simply drop your profession and become this...this exorcist or hunter as you call it. Surely there must be someone else more suitable for the task. Even you must agree that this is too dangerous for someone inexperienced to undertake alone, without the proper mentoring. And you shouldn't have been performing an exorcism! Your mistake could have cost you your life." Holmes glanced at Watson and smiled in amusement as he set the revolver down on the small coffee table.

"I apologize for worrying you unnecessarily, old friend. You know my penchant for dramatics. I did mention the word hunting, but I would hardly do so in this case. Mr. Calwell is against sending us on an errand that we are unfamiliar with as well." He paused to lean back in his chair and take the smoking pipe he left on the table. "My previous adventure, I promise you, is the first as well as the last of such undertaking. That was, I have to admit, quite an experience and one I am not keen on repeating." Watson breathed a sigh of relief, but some apprehension was still there.

"Then what does Mr. Calwell require of you?" He asked.

"He is aware of my line of work - from your chronicles of my cases I suspect - and wishes to avail of my expertise. He seeks information on a man by the name of James Maybrick, who Mr. Calwell believes is the key to a particular event that is occurring in his own time. But I have been warned that searching for this man might arouse the attention of demons. It's for that very reason that Mr. Calwell has given me basic instructions in fighting them. He doesn't wish for me to go unprepared. As you have already mentioned, hunting is new to me." He stared at Watson and blew a cloud of smoke before he spoke again.

"Although the task is familiar to me, the danger is still evident - greater even, compared to any case I've handled before. You know that I hold the utmost respect for your strength and courage in the face of danger, but I won't think any less of you should you choose not to assist me."

"I refuse to leave you in such a dangerous situation while I stand idly by. You know that I will always be more than happy to help you, no matter how dangerous it might be." Watson said, straightening his back and looking at his friend determinedly. Holmes smiled and nodded to him gratefully.

"I could ask for no better partner to have at my back." He said. When Watson saw that Holmes wasn't going to argue or force him to leave, he relaxed.

"Have you any clues or information as to who this Maybrick fellow is, or where he lives?" Sherlock didn't answer the question immediately. His hands played with his pipe, turning it around and staring deep in thought. Watson wanted to find out what his best friend was thinking of, but the detective was a master of hiding his real emotions and his thoughts. The Doctor could only sit and make wild guesses on the thoughts that lurked in Holmes' brilliant mind. Finally after a long pause, he looked at Watson.

"More than a hundred years have passed in Mr. Calwell's time. What information he can glean for us is either false or circumstantial - the most accurate information he can acquire is that James Maybrick is a cotton merchant and that he lives somewhere in Liverpool."

"It's not much to go on." Watson commented.

"If he was able to gather more information than that he would not be seeking my help." Holmes replied. The Doctor nodded in acquiesce.

"So what is our course of action?" He asked. Holmes stood up from his armchair and grabbed his coat from the stand. Watson moved to stand as well.

"I have sent my irregulars to find this James Maybrick fellow and they have found one such man living in Liverpool. I've decided to call on his house and see if this man is the James Maybrick that Mr. Calwell needs information on."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I would like you to visit Scotland Yard and ask Inspector Lestrade for reports on the murders that have occurred near Whitechapel. Learn what you can of how the crimes were committed and see if you can find any pattern in the killer's methods."

"Are these murders connected to the man we're looking for?"

"I'm not certain. But Mr. Calwell has suggested that we investigate the crime as well. If you have nothing else to ask then I suggest you make your way to Scotland Yard as soon as possible. It is important that we gather as much information as we can, as quickly as possible." Watson nodded and together both he and Holmes left the sitting room to get to work.


End file.
